Dreams of Beauty
by SQallthings
Summary: I started this forever ago and decided I should try and finish it. Parallel to mainly the movie plot with some other stuff thrown in. EOW because I just don't like EC. I'm no good at summaries, so just give it a whirl and see how things go! Cheers
1. The Opera House

"Please Monsieur, I am trying to rehearse!" The first sounds Adrienne Rocher heard as she entered the auditorium of the Opera Populaire were those of chaos. A rehearsal for that night's gala was interrupted by three men who were walking across the stage, causing great irritation to the Maestro Reyer. "These are the new owners of the Opera Populaire, Andre Moncharmin and Firmin Richard..."

"Ah, so I am not the only one new to the opera house," Adrienne thought to herself as she made her way backstage. She walked through the crowds of dancers, chorus, scene shifters, and myriads of others who worked tirelessly to make sure that for a few brief hours each night the audience would be transported to another world through the stage. Adrienne was quite different from the people she saw as she took in her surroundings. Instead of the pale skin of the dancers, hers was a deep, golden honey. Her eyes were not painted, but large and olive colored with thick dark lashes surrounding them. Her hair was completely straight and a deep chestnut brown, quite a contrast to the blonde ringlets she saw around her. Her body was not as slight as the petite dancers, but very tall with incredibly long arms, legs, and fingers. She was more muscular than the chorus girls and at the same time more plump and rounded. As she made her observations of her new 'family', she heard someone call her name.

"Adrienne! Adrienne!" A scene shifter slid down a rope to the stage level and ran towards the girl.

"Armande!" Adrienne threw her arms around the young man who rushed towards her.

"How is my sweet little sister?" Armande said tauntingly. Adrienne grimaced and punched him in the arm.

"Little? You're five minutes older than me you dolt, and as for 'sweet', I could beat you any day!" The twins pushed each other before embracing again.

"I've missed you, little sparrow." Armande took his sister's hand, ready to show her around the massive theater, when suddenly there was a great crash and a shriek accentuated by outbursts of Italian. A backdrop had fallen on stage, pinning La Carlotta, the Opera Populaire's leading soprano underneath it. After several minutes of curses and accusations, the crowd on stage seemed to come to the consensus that the backdrop was released by the phantom of the opera.

"The phantom of the opera? Armande, are they serious?"

"Quite," said the young man. He took his sister aside and explained the stories of the opera ghost, his tricks, those who had seen him, box five and his salary. The girl burst into laughter.

"A ghost? Why would a ghost need a salary? Honestly Armande, I do believe you all are the butt of a great prank." Armande shook his head as his sister easily dismissed the opera's most controversial resident. He was about to open his mouth to contest the matter further when a gruff voice interrupted him.

"Don't doubt the opera ghost's existence, lass. He's as real as you and me!" Joseph Bouquet, the chief scene shifter began to regale Adrienne with stories of the phantom's horrific appearance right down to his yellow skin and non existent nose, as well as stories of the phantom's tricks and Joseph's own encounters with the specter.

"Are you telling me that this horrifying ghost disappeared into the rafters because _you _chased it along the catwalk?" Adrienne crossed her arms, her head cocked to one side as she raised her eyebrows in disbelief of Bouquet's story. The older man ran a hand through his greasy hair and was about to begin again when he spun around, holding his head at though he had been struck. Madame Giry stood behind him with her tapping stick raised to her shoulder.

"You will find it is best not to speak of things which you do not know, Joseph Bouquet. Go back to your place, they are ready for the next scene." The young Rochers' smiled their thanks at the ballet mistress as the scraggly scene shifter made his way up to the catwalk above the stage. "You too Armande, back to work."

"Yes, Madame," he said with a wink to his sister. When the men were gone, Madame Giry held out her arms to the young woman in front of her.

"Welcome to the opera house, Adrienne." The girl smiled and embraced the older woman.

"Madame, thank you for arranging for a place for me here. I don't know what I would have done..." Adrienne was interrupted by Madame Giry shaking her head.

"Don't think of it my dear. I could not have you wandering the streets of Marseille like a beggar, now could I?" She placed an arm around Adrienne's shoulders. "I am sorry about your father, Adrienne, and your step mother too for that matter." Adrienne shook her head and wrapped her arms tightly around her voluptuous body.

"My tears for my father have all been spent. As for my step mother, I am as glad to be rid of her as she is to be rid of me." Madame Giry nodded.

"Well, let's have Meg show you to your bed, and then you can begin work tomorrow after the gala is over. Come, child."

"Thank you Madame."

"Don't thank me, Meg. I am simply doing for you what my old school fellow should have done for a step daughter after her father's death. I can hardly believe Madame Rocher's actions. Meg!" A young, blonde dancer ran to her mother.

"Adrienne!" The two girls embraced. "I am so glad you are here, I could hardly wait for your arrival."

"Meg, show Adrienne where she can sleep tonight, and then hurry back here for rehearsal." The dancer curtseyed to her mother and took her friend's hand.

"Come Adrienne, we will put your things away, and then you must meet Christine! You two will be instant friends, I am sure. La Carlotta refuses to sing tonight, so Christine will take her place! It is quite a day for you to come, so much is happening!" Adrienne could do little but smile as Meg Giry pulled her up the stairs towards the dormitories. After finding her bed and safely depositing her things, the two women raced down the stairs like they were children again.

A few hours later, Meg, Christine, and Adrienne were all sitting in the window of the small opera chapel. Much as Meg predicted, her two friends liked each other immediately after discovering that they shared a passionate love of music and more sadly the loss of their fathers.

"You will be brilliant, Christine, your voice is so beautiful," Meg said reassuringly as Adrienne nodded in agreement.

"Indeed you will, I have only heard you sing this afternoon and I have no doubt of your success. Don't be nervous, you will do fabulously." Christine Daae smiled timidly.

"I do hope so..."

"Christine! Meg!" The three girls turned as another dancer stuck her head inside the door. "They're ready for the next rehearsal, you must come quickly!" The dancer and the soprano rose with a sigh.

"Oh well, I suppose we must leave you now, Adrienne," Christine said.

"Yes, but feel free to explore all you like. If nothing else, we shall see you after the performance," Meg added. They hugged the new girl briefly before racing off to join the rest of the company. Adrienne looked around her with resignation.

"It's not the sea, but I do believe I could grow to love it here." She rose, her head high and shoulders thrown back with determination. Adrienne Rocher took a long look at her new home. "Enchante, Opera Populaire."


	2. Exploration

After spending a good three hours wandering through every door and passageway she could find, including some doors which were obviously meant to be hidden, Adrienne felt she had well learnt her way around the opera house. Her surroundings were typical enough, but the hidden portals she had discovered intrigued her. These mysterious doors all opened into tunnels that could have led nowhere but down to the cellars of the opera house. Adrienne could tell that these doors were meant to remain secret, and she doubted if many other than herself had managed to notice them. As it was, however, the combination of years spent creating hidden cubby holes in her step mother's home and the tricks taught to her by her mother's people made Adrienne more adept than most at discovering that which was meant to be left undiscovered. For this particular afternoon, however, these secret passages would have to be left unexplored, as she possessed neither the time nor the energy to follow them into the darkness. Instead, the headstrong young woman turned to more familiar territory: the ropes.

As the daughter of a successful sailor and a girl who had no real mother to teach her to be ladylike, Adrienne could climb to the crow's nest quicker than any man on her father's ship. She tied her skirt around her knees, leaving her black stockinged legs exposed so that she might climb with greater ease and followed the ropes and ladders of the opera house as far up as she could go and still see the stage. When the colorful actors, singers, and dancers were nothing but silent specks in the distance, Adrienne created a small hammock-like seat for herself using a hanging hook and the rope she had been climbing and took up her perch. She was so high above the stage lights that her black mourning clothes and dark features blended into the background so that she was almost invisible. Adrienne closed her eyes and imagined that she was with her father again, swinging from the mast of his ship. One small tear escaped her almond eye as she remembered a devoted friend and father whom she would never be with again.

However content Adrienne was to remain in her fantasy world, her attention was drawn back to the theater by the sounds of soft footsteps and the gentle rustling of a cloak. The girl opened her eyes to see the back of man on the catwalk before her. He was tall and broad shouldered, with elegant black dress clothes, a magnificent black cape and meticulously trimmed hair that was itself so dark that it was almost as black as his apparel. From the way his head was turned slightly to one side, only one feature of his face was visible: the outline of an ivory mask against his jet hair. Adrienne nearly let out an exclamation of disbelief.

"Surely not," she thought to herself, "surely I do not face the man himself on my first day in the opera house." When she could contain herself no longer, she forced a straight face and cleared her throat. "Monsieur le Fantome, I presume?"


	3. Introductions

"Monsieur le Fantome, I presume?" Adrienne had barely gotten the words out when a rope came flying towards her. Without even thinking she caught the rope and attached it to the hook she had used to make her seat before the lasso could make its way around her neck. The young woman looked at the man before her. The phantom had his eyebrows, well, that is at least the eyebrow that wasn't covered by his porcelain mask, raised in surprise.

"Bravo, mademoiselle. Now would you be so kind as to tell me what you are doing in my opera house?" he said with more than a slight hint of sarcasm and disdain. Adrienne nodded to him.

"I have only just arrived at _your_ opera house," she said with equal sarcasm. "My brother is a scene shifter here and Madame Giry has arranged for me to have a position mending costumes." The phantom laughed coldly.

"Madame Giry has a tendency to take in strays..." Adrienne could not but help notice some slight bitterness in this last statement, but she thought nothing of it. "In any case, a seamstress has no business in the rafters of the opera house," he said accusingly and waited for her to explain herself. Adrienne merely shrugged.

"I have no business in many places. I do not have the voice for an opera chorus, nor the body of a dancer. I can play fairly well, but the orchestra consists of only men, and as my other options were fairly limited, I now find myself a seamstress. That is, if I meet with _your _approval of course." There was no mistaking the sarcasm in the girl's voice now. Adrienne was used to having to explain her presence to her step mother and other various members of her so-called family, but she was not in the mood to make herself accountable to a man who went prancing around an opera house in a mask and cape. The opera ghost grinned slightly at this impudent person he now found thrown into his presence.

"You are not afraid of me then?" Adrienne chuckled to herself and began swinging in her makeshift hammock before replying.

"In my short time here I have heard many stories of the infamous opera ghost whose skin is like yellow parchment, with bones for fingers and a black hole for a nose who strangles people in their sleep with a 'magical lasso', but now that I face the phantom of the opera I see only a man with a mask and a lasso. I fear no other man in this world, why should I fear you?" At the mention of his mask, anger flashed briefly across his face before the opera ghost broke into a sinister smile.

"We shall see in time if you have need to fear me, mademoiselle..."

"Adrienne Rocher, monsieur..." At this obvious request for a name, the grin disappeared from the phantom's face. His piercing blue eyes were filled with a cold fire.

"I am the opera ghost. There is no other name for you to concern yourself with. Farewell mademoiselle Rocher," he said, and with a swirl of his cape vanished down towards the stage. Adrienne did not even bother to try and see where he went, for she knew that he must be better at hiding in the shadows than she was at searching in them.

"The opera ghost," she mused to herself. "I think perhaps my time here will not be as boring as I thought with such a neighbor as the phantom of the opera." Adrienne bowed her head in thought for a moment before dismantling her hammock and swinging back down to the active world of the stage below her. If only she knew how interesting life at the Opera Populaire would become in the months that were to follow, if only she knew.


	4. The Night of the Opera

_Yeah, so I've decided the last two chapters sucked royally, so they will be rewritten. Chapter four phase two is below, chapter five phase two is to come soon. _

The opera that evening was magnificent. Christine was sublime, the new darling of Paris. Everyone in the theater that evening was entranced by her voice, Adrienne included. Instead of greeting her public after the performance as was customary, Christine disappeared to the small chapel where she had sat with her two friends earlier that day. After being taken back to her dressing room by Madame Giry, no one else saw her that evening except for the Viscount de Chagny, a childhood friend of the singer and the opera's new patron. All the dancers and chorus girls were giggling and sighing over the Viscount, but Adrienne could not for the life of her see his appeal. He was indeed handsome by the modern standards, which brown hair to his shoulders, light blue eyes, a classic face and boyish charm, but that was not at all the type of man Adrienne found herself attracted to. She left the chorus to chase after the rich theater goers and pine after the new patron.

Adrienne wandered the corridors and hallways backstage until the crowd died down and the opera house was silent once again. She had wanted to see her brother, but he was off gallivanting with one of the lesser chorus girls, and Meg and Madame Giry had retired to their apartment. So Adrienne found herself alone in the dark silence of the opera house.

"What am I to do with myself now?" she said aloud as she wandered aimlessly backstage. Adrienne had always lived in the night, staying up as late as she possibly could before her father or her stepmother commanded her to sleep. Well, that was until she began disobeying them completely and sneaking out to run around Marseille in the middle of the night, but Adrienne suspected that her father knew about that all along. The opera house was different, though, with it's labyrinthine passages and myriad of things to see and explore and a complete lack of parental authority. Adrienne looked up through the catwalks and rigging of the silent theater and wondered what she was supposed to do with herself for the rest of the night? It was still too early for Adrienne to even consider sleep, so she instead decided to continue her exploration of the opera house. What better opportunity would she have to discover what secrets the passageways and tunnels of the afternoon held? At night there would be no one to ask questions or to explain herself to. At night Adrienne was in her element.

Having decided upon a course of action, Adrienne went to the small room where her bed was to fetch some things which might prove useful. She threw her cloak around her shoulders and placed in her pockets a candle, matches and a small knife she carried with her when she went out on late night exploits with her mother's family. She wondered what people would think of her if they knew exactly who she was and what kind of people she preferred to spend her time with. Her father knew everything and supported her in everything, but he was gone now. Armande knew about their mother, but unlike Adrienne he preferred to pretend that they were nothing but the children of a French sea captain whose wife had died in childbirth. Armande was ashamed of their mother and her family, and sometimes Adrienne thought he was ashamed of her for choosing to embrace that part of their history. Adrienne shrugged as she gathered her things, tied her long hair back in a black scarf, and went out into the dark. With her already dark features and black cloak and scarf, there would be no chance that anyone who happened to be backstage at this hour would believe she was anything more than a shadow.

Half an hour after she had left her little room, Adrienne found herself deep in the cellars of the opera house. She had chosen one of the hidden doors and followed it until it came to a crossroads of sorts where the tunnel branched off in four different directions. Wanting to go deeper into the depths of the cellars, Adrienne followed the tunnel which smelt the stalest. As she slowly descended into the tunnel, mold and cobwebs coating the walls and the only sound the squeaking of rats running along the edge of the walls, Adrienne kept one hand on the hilt of her small dagger and the other along the worn stone of the tunnel wall. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark by now, her small candle having been extinguished by the quick drafts of cold, moist air that continuously rushed through the passageway.

For almost an hour Adrienne walked through the dark, going deeper and deeper beneath the opera. She was beginning to wonder if these tunnels would ever end when she heard a faint sound to her right. She followed the sound until she came to another passage which seemed to almost spiral downwards. The familiar smell of salt and the quiet rush of water greeted her the farther down she went, and then suddenly she found herself over a small grate from which a faint green glow could be seen. Adrienne knelt to the grate to discover that it looked down onto a subterranean lake that was covered with an ethereal mist and illuminated by the soft glow of candles. She quietly lifted up the grating so that she could peek down and see what other wonders she would find. After moving the iron grid silently to one side, Adrienne lay flat against the cold, damp stone and lowered her face just enough so that she could see what sort of place she had discovered. Directly beneath her was a section of rock that jutted out from the walls and sloped downwards into the lake. What she saw at the opposite shore of the lake was something that she would never have suspected and was completely unprepared for.

Before her was an underground kingdom of darkness, with hundreds of candles taking the place of the stars, dozens of mirrors and candelabra creating the battlements of this underground castle. Instead of grass and trees, there were rich Persian rugs covering the stone floor, and red and black velvet curtains and hangings draped over every visible surface. Instead of a courtyard surrounded by hills, there were black stone steps cut into the rock which led to the throne, a massive brass organ covered in pages and pages of music and drawings with several other instruments, a flute and a violin included, sitting at the top of the keyboard. As amazed as Adrienne was at the luxurious and astonishing accommodations she found before her, nothing could compare with what she was about to see. As she watched, the massive portcullis blocking the lake from the rest of the opera house raised and the master of this domain, the phantom of the opera, entered on a small boat which contained none other than Christine Daae.

"Why if it isn't our little Miss Daae," Adrienne said to herself as she watched the phantom lead Christine, who was almost trance-like in her movements and appearance, towards the organ. Adrienne was trying to make some sense of the situation when every bit of her attention was diverted by a voice unlike anything she had ever heard. It was more beautiful than any voice she could have ever imagined, more beautiful even than Christine's voice. It was strong, seductive baritone, and felt like black velvet brushing across Adrienne's ears. She was awed by its power, but was at the same time moved to find it was incredibly vulnerable and full of so much sadness that the dark girl could not stop the tears that involuntarily fell from her deep green eyes. She knew that this was a song not meant for her ears, but Adrienne could not pull herself away. She laid there for what seemed like an eternity, just listening and experiencing the wonders of this miraculous voice, when she was brought back to her senses by the soft sounds of a violin replacing the velvety tones. She looked back across the lake and saw Christine asleep or unconscious on an elaborate boat-shaped bed in the form of a swan, the phantom sitting at the organ with the stringed instrument in his hands.

Knowing she had seen far more than she was ever meant to, Adrienne lifted herself up, carefully replaced the grate, and silently ran back towards the opera house contemplating all that she had just see.

"The phantom of the opera," she muttered as she ran, "who is this man?" Adrienne was consumed by a need to know who this strange inhabitant of the opera house was and how he came to live in the cellars on a subterranean lake of all places. "I _must_ know more..."


	5. The Foyer

_Oh yeah, I don't own any of this except for my lovely twins. Chapter five part deux up and running. _

Over the next few days there was little talk of anything but the mysterious disappearance of Christine Daae. There were stories of kidnaping, elopement, murder, and even some far fetched tale involving a member of the English royal family. Nevertheless, everyone was completely consumed by their own theory of the new star's vanishing act. The only people who did not seem concerned with the affair were Madame Giry, Meg, and Adrienne Rocher. It seemed that where ever Adrienne went she could not escape talk of Christine. Even Armande, who Adrienne had always thought so level headed and down to earth, was sharing his theory of the opera ghost and his connection to the affair with the other scene shifters as they changed out the backdrops for the opera's newest production, _Il Mutto_.

"Honestly," Adrienne muttered to herself as she wandered through the opera house trying to find a quiet place to work. She was fitting in nicely within the costume department of the opera. The costume mistress was a short, plump old woman with wild gray curls who always acted as though she was her young assistants' grandmother, clucking and worrying over everyone and making sure they were happy and healthy. All Adrienne did was mend while the other girls and Madame Renaud would design and assemble the myriads of costumes needed for every show. She was hardly even needed in the costume room, her work was so minor and mindless. Every day Madame Renaud would hand Adrienne the pile of mending and let her wander off to finish the work anywhere she liked as long as the girl brought the finished product back to the costume room by the next morning. Sewing was by no means one of the things Adrienne enjoyed, but Madame Renaud was a kindly little woman who treated her well, so she did the work without grumbling.

Adrienne finally found some solitude in the foyer. She sat against the railing of the upper level of the lobby, just above the main staircase where the only sound she heard was the soft sloshing of the cleaning ladies' mops against the marble floors. She had chosen her position carefully so that she was in the center of a circle of sunlight created by one of the great round windows. When she closed her eyes, she felt the warmth of the sun and heard the gentle splashing of the mop water, she could almost imagine that she was back with her father. Climbing up the ropes of his ship, the feel of the salty mist against her cheeks, sitting in the crow's nest playing her mother's songs on a flute as the gulls flew overhead, all these memories came flooding back to her as she sat against the warm marble on a cold day in Paris. Adrienne shut her eyes tighter and imagined that she was back in Marseille, trying to forget the fact that her father was dead and that she now found herself in a strange place where she knew only three people. She missed her father, her mother's family, the sea...

As Adrienne attempted to drift even farther into her mind, she was suddenly snapped back to reality by the sound of voices ringing through the foyer. She looked down to see a strange assembly of the managers, the Viscount, Carlotta and the diva's entourage clucking around the staircase as though they were a mass of chickens fighting over the last bit of seed. Adrienne grunted in frustration, her lovely memories dashed by the irate voices below her. She turned and stuck her head through the banister so she could see what had everyone so excited. Through all the ranting and raving, Adrienne managed to catch various bits of several different conversations about Christine, the opera ghost, and the aforementioned specter's demands for the young soprano's position in the new opera. When finally realized what was going on, Adrienne's frustration was taken over by an intense curiosity. After the scene she had witnessed in the cellars, she was eager to learn what it was that the intriguing phantom wished of the managers. It was all quite predictable, really. He favored Christine and disliked Carlotta immensely, not that anyone could blame him. He wished Christine's career to advance and demanded that Carlotta be silenced before she started making people's ears bleed. Madame Giry, who had brought the news that Christine had returned as well as the note containing the opera ghost's demands, seemed quite calm and collected considering the madness that was going on around her. Adrienne watched as the mob followed a fuming Carlotta into the theater, leaving only the Giry women alone in the foyer. Madame Giry turned to her daughter, tossing her long braid over her shoulder and raising her tapping stick to her shoulder.

"Come, my dear," she said as she took a puzzled Meg's arm, "We have a rehearsal."

When the foyer was once again devoid of activity, Adrienne resumed her place in the circle of sunlight and let her thoughts drift again. This time, however, instead of visions of the sea, ropes, ships, and flutes, Adrienne's head was filled with images of darkness, stone, a mask and a pipe organ. She sat, her legs tucked up under her voluminous skirt, with her work in her lap, her left arm across her stomach and the long fingers of her right hand slowly twirling strands of her chestnut hair into thin, swirled ropes.

"Madame Giry knows of our dear friend the opera ghost, of that much I am certain," the girl mused to herself. "The question is, how do I find out more?" After a few moments of silent thought, Adrienne nodded her head resolutely, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and resumed her work.

"After all, the opera ghost would not be happy if there were torn costumes in his opera."


	6. Ghost Light

It was the night before the opening of _Il Mutto_, and the opera house was quiet. The day had been filled with rehearsals for the upcoming premiere, but now all was ready and everyone was asleep and resting for the day ahead of them. That is, everyone was resting except for Adrienne. Her clothes from the day were draped across the end of her neatly made bed except for her corset, which was carelessly tossed to the floor the moment she had the cursed thing off. The dark girl was lying on the floor of her closet-like room with her head resting on her arms and her feet tapping nervously on the door in front of her, the thin cloth of her white chemise providing a stark contrast to her thick, dark hair which was swirled around her bare neck and shoulders. Though life at the Opera Populaire was generally interesting enough, today had been tedious and dull. Adrienne had seen the new opera rehearsed more times than she could bear and she had nothing to do with herself for most of the day, as all of the costumes were newly finished and hadn't had the time to be torn or ripped yet. Adrienne had wanted to go and prowl through the cellars, but she didn't dare during the day when someone might miss her or wonder where she had gone. She had retired early in hopes that sleep might end her never ceasing boredom, but it seemed that even sleep refused to occupy her mind that night.

So it was that Adrienne found her way to the stage at three in the morning in naught but her nightgown and a shawl. She looked out over the dark theater, the only illumination coming from the soft glow of the ghost light, which cast an eerie hue over the center of the stage.

"Hmm, ghost light, how appropriate," Adrienne mumbled to herself as she slowly advanced to the center of the stage. She paused a moment before entering the circle of light, wondering if this ghost could be present. She waited and listened for a few moments, and then, content that no one was there, she turned her full attention to the stage. Adrienne elongated her already tall frame, dropping her shoulders and raising her head high. She let her shawl fall softly to the ground, shook out her deep brown hair, and slowly stepped into the light. She did not walk like the silent, mysterious girl who faded into the shadows of the opera house, but seductively, like a cat, dark and lithe, her body swaying slightly with each step she took. When the girl reached the center of the stage, she stopped and closed her eyes as a drum beat began to play in her head.

Adrienne stepped back onto her right leg, her back arched, her arms held gracefully to the side and her left foot pointed with her toes only lightly brushing the worn wood of the stage. She began to raise her arms, her hands making small circles in the air. As her arms rose, she sank to the ground and came to rest on her knees. Her arms ceased their florid motions and began churning the air to her sides with the rhythmic motions of a snake. She curved her spine and leaned back, her arms moving faster and faster until she rested a moment with her head nearly touching her toes behind her, and then suddenly Adrienne was back on her feet. She began to dance, her body moving to the music in her mind. She danced as no one had ever danced at the Opera Populaire in its world of Gluck and Handel, her hips and shoulders swaying and moving as if separate from the rest of her body. She circled her ribs, dropped her hips, shimmied and shook, twisted and turned almost unnaturally, all the while her arms continued to wave and swirl around her torso as her feet pointed and kicked in time with her hips. She went faster and faster, twirling around in an exotic swirl of dark hair and white muslin until finally she spun in a tight circle for a brief moment before coming to rest in her original posture.

Adrienne fought to catch her breath. Her nightgown was clinging to her stomach and legs. Her arms, chest, and face glowed with perspiration and her dark hair hung down her back, heavy with sweat. She smiled to herself and slowly brought her arms to her sides as her pointed right foot came to relax beside her left. The girl was happy; she had not danced since her father died and her step mother washed her hands of her. For a moment she was able to forget about all the things she had experienced in the last few months and just be herself. She had thrown off her guard, dropped her shield and just allowed herself to exist. Adrienne had forgotten what a wonderful feeling it was just to be, without a worry or care in the world. She had missed that side of herself since her father died.

Adrienne was pulled out of the world she had created for herself in those brief moments by the very subtle sound of a floorboard creaking. She jerked her head upwards, her eyes slanted as they scanned the theater. In a second the withdrawn and skeptical girl returned, hiding any trace of the woman who had stood in her place only a moment before. She listened intently to the silent auditorium. The sound never repeated itself, but Adrienne had no doubt of what it was she had heard. She reached down, picked up her shawl, and turned arrogantly back towards the dark theater. She focused her eyes on box five and took an elaborate and slightly overdone bow.

"Monsieur," Adrienne said coldly. "I hope you enjoyed the show, for it will not be repeated." She spun on her heel and stormed off the stage and back to her room.


	7. Murder in the Flies

The next day Adrienne did her duties, caught up in the madness that preceded any premiere at the opera. She was glad that the day was so busy, that way no one had any time to notice the way she was storming around the theater. Adrienne had bandages on most of her fingers from the many times she'd stabbed herself with a needle, taking her anger out on the costumes.

"How could I be that stupid," she ranted to herself as she nursed another pricked finger tip. "Of course he was there, how could he not be? Just because I didn't hear anything...how could I have done that? Why did I have to do _that_?"

Adrienne was furious with herself. She was angry that she had allowed herself to let go and show a side of herself that she didn't want anyone to see, even if she thought she was alone.

"Alone, ha. No one is ever alone in _his_ opera house." Even as she took her place backstage to watch the performance Adrienne continued to mentally berate herself for the way she had behaved. She finally managed to focus most of her attention on the opera as the performers took their places behind the curtain. She had no intention of actually watching the show until she saw Christine nervously assume her role as the pageboy next to Carlotta, who was playing the Countess. The phantom's orders were not being obeyed, everyone had known this for quite some time. What Adrienne found so interesting was her young friend's recent behavior. Over the last month as the new opera progressed, Christine had gradually lost her childlike playfulness and naivete and had instead become pale, nervous, and afraid. As the young woman walked onto the stage, her tiny white hands twisting the apron of her costume into a giant knot, her distress was highly evident.

"Why is she so afraid?" Adrienne muttered to herself.

"What did you say, dear?" Adrienne spun around to see Madame Giry looking at her inquisitively. The older woman was trying to appear curious, but Adrienne could tell that she knew perfectly well what the girl had said. Adrienne bit her lip, not wanting to say anything more, but then decided that this was as good a time as any to bring up the matter. She was fully aware that her step mother's schoolfellow knew far more about the elusive phantom than she let on. Adrienne turned to face the ballet mistress.

"I asked why Christine is so afraid." Madame Giry shook her head slightly.

"She is justly afraid. She fears his wrath," the older woman said quietly as she placed her hand on Adrienne's shoulder and turned to watch the performance. Adrienne followed her lead and tried to appear attentive to the stage. "Everyone here fears him, though some foolishly try to deny it by defying him." Adrienne crossed her arms and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

"I am not afraid of him. I refuse to fear a man who is himself so afraid to face the rest of the world that he hides in the shadows using notes, passageways, and mind games to manipulate whomever he chooses. He shall not have the satisfaction of my fear." Adrienne turned to see Madame Giry watching her with her eyebrows raised, the only visible sign of the surprise Adrienne knew she felt at this declaration. The ballet mistress raised her head to face upwards, her eyes quickly scanning the flies before returning to rest on Adrienne's determined face.

"Madame Giry, I want to ask you..." The older woman shook her head.

"Not now, child. Not now."

The two women stood together through the disastrous first act. They watched as Carlotta croaked like a toad, they listened as the phantom sounded his displeasure over the entire auditorium, his voice filling the hall and making the chandelier ring. As Carlotta ran offstage and the managers nervously announced that Christine would take her role as the Countess for the rest of the show Madame Giry quietly rushed to the dressing rooms to help the young soprano into the necessary costume. Adrienne folded her arms and let the rest of the cast and crew run around trying to change sets and costumes to get the ballet on stage in an attempt to appease the audience during the change in the cast list. As the chorus rushed past her towards the stage, Adrienne backed into the shadows, where she grabbed the first rope she came to and quickly climbed up to the first level of catwalks where she once again sank back into the shadows so that she could observe without being seen. The ballet went on in a hurried fashion below her, but Adrienne's olive eyes were focused on the flies. She knew that the phantom could not be so easily appeased, so Adrienne waited until he unleashed his famous wrath. She didn't have long to wait.

Just as the ballet seemed to fall into place on the stage below, Adrienne looked up to see Joseph Buquet bustling about the catwalks, obviously looking for someone. As it was, Buquet didn't find who he was looking for: the phantom found him. Adrienne held her breath as the chief of the flies ran from the opera ghost. Buquet climbed and raced along the ropes and thin boards, but the man in the mask was much stronger and faster than the old scene shifter. Buquet tripped as he crossed the board over the stage, grasping the catwalk as the phantom came upon him, fixed a noose around his neck, and kicked the greasy man off of the plank.

Moments later Adrienne was again perched high in the flies of the opera, having observed Christine and the Vicomte flee to the roof of the opera house where they believed they would be away from the phantom's ever present eyes. Unfortunately for the young lovers, they did not see the opera ghost ascend to the roof only seconds before they burst into the night air in their escape. Adrienne _did_ see this. The young woman knew that there was something to this whole affair that she did not understand, but she would wait until she did. The dark girl swung back and forth, the ropes creaking slightly as they stretched under her weigh, cries of scandal and whispers of murder reaching her ears from the theater below. Adrienne listened and waited.


	8. Understanding

She did not have long to wait before everything began to make sense. As Adrienne listened, she could hear bits and pieces of a conversation that at first was filled with exclamations of fear, darkness, and deformity and then turned to promises of freedom, light, and love. After a quarter of an hour or so, the young Vicomte and Mademoiselle Daae left the roof and made their way back down to the theater, all the while holding hands and stealing kisses. Adrienne waited until the couple had gone far enough to be safely out of hearing distance before she stirred from her hiding place. She carefully swung herself onto the walkway to the rooftop entrance, readjusted her skirts to a proper length and slowly crept towards the door. She took hold of the latch and lifted it carefully, her other hand flat against the aged wood to keep it from creaking. The young woman did not know what she expected to see when she looked out onto the roof, but what met her eyes was something she hadn't anticipated.

Before her she saw the phantom, reduced from his powerful height to a trembling black form, his dark, huddled shape providing a stark contrast to the soft white snow that covered the roof. Adrienne slowly opened the door further and stuck out her head so that she might hear if he said anything. Her ears were not met with the proud, cold voice she had heard in their previous encounters. Instead she heard the pitiful sobbing of a man whose heart had been broken. Adrienne could make out only one word through his sobs:

"Christine…Christine…" Adrienne closed her eyes in understanding and pity.

"Christine," she thought to herself. "Now it all makes sense. The girl's unknown teacher, the disappearance, and the demands that she take the lead…he loves her, and that foolish girl became afraid and turned to our dear little patron." Adrienne shook her head at what she knew Christine must have been thinking the last few weeks. "Ah, deformity, now I understand." The young soprano had seen his face. Whether it was as terrible as the stories described or not, there clearly was something wrong with the opera ghost's face, and Christine had seen it and reacted out of fear. She took her trust and faith from her formerly unseen tutor and gave them to the handsome Vicomte for safekeeping.

Adrienne could not help the tears that fell silently down her cheeks as she began to understand the sorrowful cries of the man before her. He taught this girl, helped her take her voice and give it wings so that she might rise above all others at the opera, taken her down to his home where Adrienne doubted very few, if any, had ever entered before, and she took one look at his face and turned from him. No wonder this man before her was sobbing on the opera roof in the middle of the night, alone.

Even as Adrienne's own tears began to flow more freely, the phantom's tears of sorrow turned to tears of anger. Before her eyes she saw every muscle in his body tense, his breath became harsh and jagged with rage, and his hand became a fist as he crushed something Adrienne could not see. The phantom leapt to his feet and ran to the statue of Apollo's Lyre, which he quickly ascended. A cry of rage escaped the anguished man's lips, and Adrienne found it difficult to believe that the voice which just moments before had seemed so weak and sorrowful now echoed across Paris with fury and revenge.

"This is not going to go well," Adrienne whispered to herself, in awe of the scene before her. "If his performance this evening was caused by annoyance, I cannot even imagine what he would do in this rage." Adrienne turned her eyes to the spot on the roof where the phantom had collapsed in sorrow a moment before and saw what had been a red rose with a black ribbon around the stem, now a pile of crushed petals which resembled pools of blood on the pure white of the snow. This would not go well at all.


	9. Friends

After standing for several minutes atop the statue, shouting his rage to the night sky, the phantom's arms dropped to his side. He hung his head for a brief moment before he slowly descended Apollo's Lyre. Adrienne quickly and quietly closed the door, not wanting him to turn around and see her watching him in his despair. Adrienne wanted to help this man, but if he lashed out at her before he calmed his temper she would never get the chance.

"He's already killed once tonight, after all," she said as she wiped away her tears and resumed her position in the ropes. Once she had settled her own emotions and fixed her appearance, Adrienne once again began swinging, causing the ropes to creak slightly under her weight. She knew the opera ghost would hear her, but this time she was not trying to avoid his attention. After a few minutes of waiting, the door to the roof opened and the proud phantom she had encountered before emerged from the night air, his face hard as steel and his eyes sharp, a cold, glinting gree. He walked forwards a few steps before turning to face the girl in the flies.

"Mademoiselle, would you mind telling me what it is you think you are doing here?" he said in a voice filled with icy anger. Adrienne swung herself onto the catwalk and nodded to the man before her.

"Forgive my intrusion, but my curiosity got the better of me. Out of all my traits, my step mother despised my inquisitive prying the most." The phantom laughed harshly. It would be difficult to notice the pain present in his every tone and movement if Adrienne had not just witnessed the man's sorrow in full force. As it was, the girl could tell that the man's disdain came out of an attempt to hide the emotions which he was experiencing most strongly. She wondered briefly if this was the reason for all his hostility, if he used it as a way to hide his vulnerabilities and maintain control. The opera ghost laughed again and took a menacing step towards Adrienne.

"And what has your curiosity led you to now?" he said with a sneer, continuing forward. Adrienne stood firm, knowing that if she was to remain in charge of at least her half of this conversation she must not yield to any threats, spoken or unspoken. "Well, do you fear me now? I have killed tonight, I may have ruined the career of the opera's prima donna, I have voiced my displeasure until the entire opera house shook with my anger. Tell me, my mysterious young seamstress, do you fear me now?" The phantom stopped just inches away from Adrienne's face, his tall form towering over her. The girl noticed for the first time the scent of leather, sandalwood and candle smoke that surrounded his person, but blinked quickly and refocused on the situation.

"Out of the two people who followed you tonight, it is the one who feared you who is dead. I stand before you." The phantom's face hardened into a sneer.

"So, you come to berate me over the death of poor Joseph Buquet, is that it?"

"No. I saw what happened between you, and for my part, I do not think he is a man that will be much missed." The opera ghost chuckled slightly, but did not change his position. Adrienne pushed her dark hair behind her ear and looked down for a moment before continuing. "I also saw a young soprano and a certain so called 'dashing young vicomte' escape to a roof in fear and leave in a lover's bliss." Before the statement had even escaped her lips Adrienne found a gloved hand around her throat and the phantom's sneering face looking down on her in rage.

"Do not speak to me of them!" he hissed, "I will hear nothing of her nor of _that_ _boy_!" Adrienne's gaze remained steady.

"I did not wait outside this door to speak of them. I came to speak of you." Adrienne felt the fingers around her neck loosen in surprise. She pulled the phantom's hand off of her throat before continuing. "You are not the only one who can see without being seen in this opera house." The phantom backed away slowly. In an instant the rage that had possessed him not a moment before was gone, replaced with a kind of uneasy sadness. He turned his head so that all Adrienne could see of his face was the cold, unfeeling white of the mask.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly. Adrienne shook her head and moved slowly towards the man before her.

"I want nothing from you. I am sure there are few here who have ever shown you much compassion, and I wanted you to know that I am sorry for what you have gone through tonight if no one else is. These burdens are difficult to bear alone." Adrienne looked away wistfully, remembering her father and the great loss she felt at his death. She didn't know exactly how the phantom's emotions measured up to her own at the moment, but this was the closest thing she had to compare them with. When the dark girl looked back to the phantom she saw a man who was staring at her, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping open in shock.

"What?" he said in slow disbelief. Adrienne walked up to him and placed one hand on his arm. The man before her looked down where the girl had touched him of her own free will before turning to face her again, astonished at his current situation.

"I offer you my sympathy and my friendship if you'll have it. Who would be a more ideal friend for the greatest outcast in Paris than one who has always been an outcast herself?" The phantom shook his head and looked at his feet for a moment before raising his eyes to the girl in front of him.

"A friend," he said almost to himself, still trying to understand what was going on, "I have never had a friend before." Adrienne grinned.

"Well, now seems as good a time as any to acquire one, does it not?" The girl held out her hand. The phantom looked at it for a moment before carefully extending his own.

"Indeed it does…"

"Adrienne." The phantom nodded.

"So we are friends then…" Adrienne watched him expectantly. The opera ghost hesitated before replying.

"Erik." Adrienne smiled again.

"Well Erik, I believe I must return before my brother believes me lost or dead in all the confusion you've caused." Adrienne turned and began to descend back down into the opera house. "I believe you have some great revenge to plan and I am not foolish enough to try and stop you," she called over her shoulder. "Goodnight Erik."

The phantom watched the young woman as she moved down the series of rickety stairs and ladders that led back to the stage, still puzzled at this creature who had invaded his opera house and presumed to place herself in his life.

"A friend. Hmm," he mused for a moment before his eyes once again became cold and his features hardened. The opera ghost looked back towards the roof, hearing the voices of the young lovers once again in his mind. "Christine….They will curse the day they did not heed my warnings!" With a swirl of his dark cloak the phantom of the opera disappeared once again into the shadows of his opera house.


	10. Twins in a Frenzy

_How can we tell the author's on spring break with nothing better to do than sit in front of the computer? Three updates in three days! Voila! _

"Adrienne! Adrienne!" Her name was the first distinguishable sound that greeted Adrienne's ears as she finally set foot on the solid floor backstage. The entire opera house was in a fearful frenzy after the disastrous performance, and Armande Rocher did not waste anytime joining in the chaos. Adrienne stood for a moment and watched as her brother ran from one end of the theater to another looking for her. He was in too much of a hurry to notice the person he was searching for was standing right in front of him, and it was cruel of Adrienne not to alert him of her presence, but she couldn't resist watching him worry.

"Revenge for always pulling my hair," the dark girl told herself as she leaned against the ballet rats' warm up bar, arms crossed and a smug look on her face. Armande was a handsome young man, anyone could see that. His hair, straight and dark like Adrienne's, fell to his shoulders and was tied back with a thin leather strap. His eyes were also like his sister's, deep set olive green almonds with thick dark lashes. It was by observing their hair and eyes that the innocent bystander could notice the resemblance between the twins, but it was there that their similarities ended. Though both quite tall, Armande was lean and a little bit lanky where Adrienne was more plump and rounded in shape, and even though Armande was quite muscular from his work as a scene shifter he had never been able to beat his naturally strong sister at arm wrestling. Armande was the arrow, thin and quick striking, while Adrienne was the sturdy tree it was made from.

The other main difference between the siblings was their skin. While Adrienne's was a deep honey gold, rich and exotic, Armande's was more like strawberry cream with a hint of honey, looking as if he had a naturally fair complexion that had been kissed by the sun. Her brother reminded Adrienne so much of their father. Armande moved like him. They shared the same gestures, mannerisms, the same way of looking at Adrienne like she was crazy when she went off alone or decided to see how high she could climb the mast. Adrienne loved her brother; they had always been the best of friends as children. They used to be the only tie either of them had to their unknown mother, and now they were all that remained to remind each other of their beloved father.

Adrienne contemplated all of this as she watched Armande dash through the wings, now red faced and sweating from his search. It was when Carlotta and her entourage turned the corner to storm out of the theater yet again that Adrienne decided to alert her brother of her presence. He had already barreled into several cast and staff members in his hurry and a head on collision with La Carlotta would be worse for him than a chance encounter with the opera ghost. Adrienne quickly jumped into her brother's path.

"Armande!" The young man skidded to a halt in front Adrienne. He looked at her for a moment, panting, before marching right up to her and grabbing her shoulders.

"Where in God's name have you been! I thought you were hanging dead in the rafters somewhere!" Adrienne cocked her head to one side and raised her eyebrows.

"Hanging in the rafters?" Armande turned and began steering Adrienne up to her room.

"Yes, hanging in the rafters! I know how you flit and climb about the flies as though they were the sails on Papa's ship. I thought you decided to go frolicking about the ropes, ran into the phantom in a rage and ended up dangling alongside Joseph Buquet!" Adrienne shook her head, trying not to laugh at her brother, who became more and more ridiculous the longer he went on about the possibility of his sister's nearly escaped doom.

"Oh honestly, Armande, why would the phantom hang me? I haven't done anything to make him want to hurt me!" "_Unless you count following him, spying on him, and egging him on",_ she thought to herself as she was trying to calm her brother.

"Ha!" Armande laughed sarcastically as he pulled his sister up the series of stairs and through the narrow hallway that led to her attic room. He continued, gesturing wildly. "What did Buquet do to anger him? What did Carlotta do?" At this last statement Adrienne just stopped, barely able to contain herself any longer.

"What did they do? Are you serious?" she replied, mimicking her flustered brother with her frenzied voice and wild hand gestures. "Buquet told everyone who came into the opera house that he has yellow skin and no nose! And Carlotta…well, I think everyone here except perhaps Piangi was more than happy to hear that lovely croak come out of her obnoxious mouth." Armande stopped at stared open mouthed at Adrienne, who struck a dramatic pose and let out her best "co-ack!" The twins paused for a moment, simply staring at each other, before they both snorted and fell over with laughter, gripping their stomachs and gasping for air. After being gaped at and stepped over by several ballet rats, the siblings finally regained some sense of composure. Armande was back to normal and lay on his side across the width of the hallway with his sister on the ground in front of him, her back leaning against his stomach. Adrienne wiped a tear of laughter away, slapped her brother on the shoulder and stood.

"Enough madness for one night," she said, pulling Armande to his feet. "Come on, let's go play cards and drink." Armande followed his sister down the hallway, still holding his stomach.

"Cards? Drink? That's a little vulgar, don't you think?" Adrienne just laughed and continued towards her room.

"Vulgar? Armande, we're the orphaned, illegitimate twins of a middle class French seaman who live and work in an opera house that is on its way to producing the biggest scandal that Paris has seen in years. We are many things, but respectable isn't one of them." Armande nodded and followed after his headstrong sister.

"You get the cards, I'll get the gin."


	11. Coffee and Conversations

_Hey guys, sorry this chapter took awhile. It's much longer than the others have been and I was having some issue figuring out how I wanted to do this. Actually, I'm still not sure how much I like it...y'all let me know what you think. _

_Maska: I'm glad you liked the Armande chapter. I was going to include him in the next one anyway, but the extra attention was for you, my dear! I heart reviewers who like my sorry excuse for a story! And now we continue..._

Adrienne awoke the next day to the sound of knuckles rapping against her door. She blinked slowly and became aware of one of the worst headaches she had ever experienced.

"Oh, that hurts," she grunted to herself as she painfully sat up. She pushed the mass of dark hair that had fallen over her face aside and took in her surroundings. She was in her room, sitting on her bed fully clothed, shoes and all. Playing cards were scattered across her skirts and her feet were entangled with those of Armande, who lay on the opposite end of the bed hugging an empty bottle. Adrienne laughed at the site of her grown brother cradling a gin bottle as if he were a child sleeping with his toy, but she immediately regretted the action as a searing pain shot through her forehead. The knock came again at the door.

"Yes?" Adrienne said as she deliberately swung her legs over the side of the bed and struggled to her feet.

"Adrienne? It's Meg, may I come in?" Adrienne shuffled over to the door, trying to calm the hair threatening to swallow her entire head. She forced herself to open her eyes completely and opened the door.

"Good morning, Meg," she said, letting the younger girl into the room.

"Adrienne, you look terrible, did you not sleep?" Meg asked. She then looked over to where Armande lay with his bottle, her eyes widening. Adrienne chuckled started to pick up the cards littering the room.

"No, my brother and I had some catching up to do. What can I do for you, dear?" Meg looked back to Adrienne and began helping her with the cards, her toe shoes clicking against the hardwood floors.

"Well, it's just that Christine has been through a lot the last few weeks, and she's acting very strangely after last night. I wanted to know if you would come with me to take her to lunch outside of the opera house so I can find out what is going on." The young ballerina fixed her large brown eyes on Adrienne, trying her best to look like a lost puppy pleading for a bone. Adrienne patted the petite girl on the shoulder.

"Now how could I say no to that face?" Meg grinned and flitted toward the door.

"Noon, then?" Adrienne nodded with a smile.

"Noon." Meg turned to leave when Adrienne called out to her.

"Wait, Meg, what time is it now?"

"Nearly eleven," the blonde ballerina said with a smile before she closed the door behind her. The dark girl sat again, holding her head after surviving a full conversation.

"Eleven. Good lord, how much did I drink?"

An hour later Adrienne, Meg, and Christine were seated at a small café a few blocks away from the opera house. Their waiter came, a very handsome youth with light hair and bright eyes, to take their orders. Meg flirted as she went through practically the entire menu, asking questions about each dish before finally deciding on roasted chicken. Christine was oblivious to the attention their dashing waiter paid her and ordered her salad without so much as a glance up at him, much to his dismay. Adrienne tried her best not to blink more often than necessary and ordered a croissant and coffee.

"Would you like anything in your coffee, mademoiselle? Cream? Sugar?" Adrienne shook her head.

"Black, thank you, and as strong as you can make it." Meg and Christine grimaced.

"Black?" They asked, unable to comprehend why anyone would subject themselves to coffee black. Adrienne just pointed at her head.

"Hangover."

"Ah."

The three girls waited in silence for their food. Meg's face was the picture of anxiety, Adrienne's the picture of discomfort, and Christine's the picture of blissful ignorance. Adrienne turned as she felt something nudge her foot. She looked up to see Meg glancing back and forth between Adrienne and their oblivious friend, obviously wanting to start the necessary conversation but unable to do it herself. Adrienne sighed and nodded to the ballerina, who grinned innocently. The older girl turned to the young soprano, her chin resting in her hand.

"You seem rather blissful today, Christine. I would have thought that after such a dreadful evening you would be more uneasy than you are." Christine looked up, her blue eyes shining as a rosy blush covered her fair cheeks. Meg leaned forward, awaiting Christine's response. Adrienne pretended interest, though she knew full well what Christine was blushing about. "_Foolish girl,_" she thought to herself.

"Well," Christine began as the waiter returned, setting their food deliberately on the table in front of them before giving his best charming smile and returning to the kitchen. "Last night after the . . . accident . . . Raoul went with me to the roof . . . " Christine's grin got wider and wider as she continued. Meg leaned forward in anticipation while Adrienne feigned interest. "He loves me! He says he will protect me and take care of me always, and I am so happy!" Christine smiled, her joy radiating from her lovely face. Adrienne could not help but smile back at this charming girl, no matter how silly she thought her. Meg grasped her friend's hands.

"Oh Christine, that's wonderful!" The rest of the lunch was spent with Meg and Christine sharing girlish gossip about the handsome patron and his evening on the roof with the young soprano. Adrienne sipped her coffee and watched, completely uninterested in joining this conversation. Suddenly, Meg jumped out of her seat as she caught a glimpse of a clock on the wall of the restaurant.

"Oh! I have rehearsal in fifteen minutes! Maman will be furious if I am late. I will see you both later. I must go right away!" The tiny ballerina dashed across the square and back to the opera house. Adrienne smiled at Christine.

"She's quite fast, isn't she?" Christine laughed and nodded, her golden curls bouncing against her shoulders.

"Yes she is. I am sorry she couldn't stay, but I see nothing wrong with the two of us continuing." Christine smiled at her friend. Adrienne could not help but like this girl. She understood why everyone, even the phantom, fell in love with her. She was so innocently beautiful and charming. It was difficult not to love her. Adrienne redirected her thoughts for the moment, however. She was actually quite relieved that Meg had left as she had some things she wanted to find out that Meg really did not need to know.

"Christine, I want to ask you something," Adrienne said as she pushed what remained of her croissant around her plate. Christine tilted her head to one side, awaiting the question. "Why were you so eager to rush into the Vicomte's arms last night? What were you so afraid of that you needed to seek protection in his love?" Christine looked down.

"That was not the question I was expecting," she said softly, clearing her throat. "Raoul will protect me from . . . him." The young soprano's demeanor changed almost immediately. She seemed to shrink into herself, her face pale and her eyes darting around the café as if she would see a black cloak or a flash of white porcelain. Adrienne leaned forward, not wanting to be overheard.

"Do you think he would harm you?" Christine glanced around nervously. Adrienne took her hand, trying to help soothe her anxiety.

"I don't know. I'm afraid he will haunt me, never leave me in peace," she said, her voice shaking. "I'm afraid he will never be out of my head."

"But he had been instructing you for how long? Years?" Christine nodded.

"He sang to me ever since I first came here. He has been teaching me for three years." Adrienne scratched her head, slightly puzzled.

"If he has been in your mind for all these years, why is it that you did not fear him before? Why does he frighten you so much now?" The younger girl began anxiously tapping her fork against her plate.

"He has killed a man . . . " Adrienne shook her head.

"No, that's not it. You have been afraid of him since you returned after _Hannibal_. I could see your demeanor change, I knew you were afraid of something. Buquet's death had nothing to do with it." Christine chewed on her rosy lip. Adrienne leaned forward, lowering her voice slightly. "I also know where you were during that disappearance."

Christine gasped slightly as her face blushed and then became pale once again.

"I..." The girl leaned forward, her voice lowering to a whisper. "I saw his face! I thought he was so wonderful. He voice is beautiful, more beautiful than any other sound in the world, and he had shown me so much, but when I took his mask off . . . it's horrible, Adrienne, absolutely horrible! And his temper! He changed in an instant. He was so angry. I was so afraid. I don't ever want to see him in that unreasonable fury!" Adrienne snorted her coffee at this last statement. She coughed for a moment and brought her napkin to her mouth. Christine looked at her, puzzled. "What is it?"

"Unreasonable fury? You just said you took his mask off, did you ask him first? Did he give you permission?" Christine just looked confused.

"No, but he . . . "

"He what? He was angry? Furious even? What did you expect?" Adrienne asked, shocked that none of this had occurred to her young friend. "Did you not realize that he must have had a reason for the mask? Did you think that he would jump for joy when you took it from him without even telling him?" Christine began to stammer.

"I...uh . . . "

"And as for his face, I don't care how horrible it is, I don't see why a physical feature would change anyone's opinion of the man himself!"

"But you don't understand, it's . . . " Adrienne raised her hand, cutting the girl off.

"I really have no desire to hear what it looks like. His face is not the point, the point is that you've trusted this man for years and you let a glimpse of something he has no control over and his anger after _you_ exposed it without his consent change your entire opinion of him." Adrienne had to struggle to keep her voice quiet, she was so indignant at this otherwise charming young woman's naive ignorance. Instead of understanding Adrienne's accusations, Christine just became more and more puzzled and distressed. Adrienne quickly poured the rest of her coffee down her throat, her headache growing worse and worse as the conversation continued. She waited a moment before continuing or even looking at Christine.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, Christine?" She asked once she had calmed herself. The young soprano bit her lip and shook her head slightly. "_She can't understand,_" Adrienne thought, "_This is simply beyond her comprehension._ _This dear girl cannot fathom anything beyond her own feelings, try as she might._" The dark girl shook her head.

"Adrienne, are you angry with me?" Christine asked timidly, her voice shaking as if she was trying not to cry. Adrienne took Christine's hand with a sigh and gave her a weak smile.

"No, I'm not angry with you. I will remain your friend even if I don't understand your actions." Christine smiled, her good nature restored. "I just want to know one more thing, if you'll allow me to ask you one more question." The younger woman nodded.

"Of course, whatever you like."

"Did you ever ask his name?" Christine shook her head.

"No, should I have?" Adrienne just turned back to her croissant.

"That's what I thought you would say."


	12. Hangover

_Sorry this took so long, my life is INSANE at the moment. I finally read Susan Kay's Phantom, though (fabulous, by the way) so now I have all kinds of new insight to put into this story. Do we like this chapter? You tell me. _

Adrienne returned to her room following her lunch with Meg and Christine, her head pounding and her eyes blinking against the harsh light of day.

"I am _never_ drinking gin again..." she muttered as she sat gingerly on her bed. She kicked off her shoes and rolled onto her back, ready to sleep off the incessant throbbing which seemed to make her entire skull shake. She heaved a sigh and turned to her side, at which point her nose came in contact with something hard and cold. She opened her eyes to see an opaque bottle with a thick brown liquid inside and a note. Adrienne turned her head gingerly and popped the red wax seal off of the note with one finger and slid the small paper in front of her eyes.

"_This will help you to recover from last night's festivities," _it began. Adrienne looked over to the brown liquid and winced.

"I'm supposed to drink this?" She grimaced at the thick potion. "Yech."

"_I trust you had a pleasant lunch. I, on the other hand, found the conversation to be slightly tedious." _Adrienne raised her eyebrows and continued. _"You would find it in your best interest to ensure that your little display in the café is not repeated."_ At this Adrienne sat straight up in her bed, her brow furrowed and her mouth opening and closing in indignation. She shook her head angrily and threw the note down on the bed.

"That arrogant bastard," she muttered to herself. "You can't have a conversation without him eavesdropping even outside the opera house!" She looked around her room, wondering if he was there watching her even then. "That's right, I said you were an arrogant bastard! I certainly hope you heard me as it appears no one else has the gall to say it!" Adrienne crossed her arms and looked down, pouting, her eyes landing on the small bottle. She picked it up gingerly, spinning it in her long fingers as she examined the contents. The dark girl sighed and looked back to her walls.

"Thank you for this," she said, lifting the potion up. She popped the bottle open, closed her eyes, and poured the thick liquid down her throat and immediately began coughing and sputtering. "That's disgusting!" she gasped. In between coughs Adrienne could have sworn she heard someone laughing. When she finally regained control of her respiratory system Adrienne stuck her tongue out at the wall and flopped back onto the bed. "This had better be effective," she said as she scraped her tongue against her teeth, trying to get rid of the taste. "Now if you don't mind, I am going to sleep. Go pester someone else for a few hours."

An hour later Adrienne awoke, all traces of the gin induced sickness of that morning gone. She sat up and placed her hands on her head as though she were searching for some sign of her earlier headache. Finding none, she stood, tied her hair back and went to the mirror. Her face was back to its normal color and the dark shadows that had been under her olive eyes all day had disappeared.

"Well, I'll be damned," she muttered to herself. "It actually worked." After examining her appearance for a moment longer Adrienne left her small room and went downstairs to get her work for the day. The usual hustle and bustle of the cast and crew greeted Adrienne as she reached the main level of the opera house. She smiled and made her way down the winding passageway until she reached the costume department. She opened the door to see Madame Renaud sitting at the great table in the center of the room as her three assistants scurried about the room.

"Adrienne, dear!" Madame Renaud exclaimed as the dark girl entered. "Gracious, child, we thought you'd vanished when you didn't come pick up the mending this morning. Are you all right, my dear?" Adrienne smiled.

"Yes, Madame, I'm fine. I had a bit of a headache, but a friend gave me a fabulous home remedy that cleared it right up." Adrienne cast her eyes about the room, wondering if Erik was there listening. "I'm perfectly all right now." The older woman grinned, her round cheeks glowing pink. Adrienne smiled. There was no one who could be anything but happy in the kindly costume mistress' presence. Adrienne picked up her mending and settled herself in a corner of the room. Normally she went to find some inconspicuous corner of the opera house in which to work, but today she wanted to be around people, particularly people who gossiped. Adrienne wanted to hear what people were saying about the events of the previous evening, though she was sure she could already guess what the main topic of the day's gossip would be.

After hours of mending and laughing at the many different versions of the "disaster" caused by the opera ghost the previous evening, Adrienne climbed the many flights of stairs leading up to her room. She was exhausted, her legs feeling heavy as though they were made of lead. Her fingers ached as they grasped the worn bannister. Her hair swept about her shoulders, having long escaped its confining braid, as she trudged towards bed. When she finally reached her room, Adrienne undid her skirt and blouse and let them fall to the floor, not bothering to put them in their rightful places. She kicked her shoes off as she unhooked her corset, which she draped over the end of her bed before raising her arms in a stretch and twisting slowly, her white shift brushing against her bare legs. Adrienne swept the covers back and slowly sank to the bed. She lay there, her hair spreading over the pillow as she gazed at the small sliver of the clear night sky visible through the tiny window. The olive eyes closed in sleep while another pair of eyes, deep green and glinting gold in the darkness, looked on. The glowing eyes narrowed as their owner pondered the simple grace sleeping in the shoddy bed before him, a thought which left a certain masked man feeling slightly unsettled as he turned to go watch his angel sleeping in the dormitories two floors below him.


	13. Friendship

_And I'm back. Don't know if any of you people are still interested in this story (not like it's that good), but I finally felt like writing it again. So, here's a chapter. Have fun. _

Over the next few weeks Adrienne had several 'chance' encounters with the Phantom of the Opera. In this case the word 'chance' meant that she followed him and tried to jump on the hem of his cloak until he became so angry that he stopped and tried, unsuccessfully, to strangle her. In most cases, it would be impossible to follow the opera ghost, but Adrienne had become so adept at it that the man could hardly stalk the flies of the theater without finding our persistant and headstrong young seamstress at his heels. After two weeks of never ending frustration, the opera ghost gave in and allowed Adrienne some of his very valuable time. He was more puzzled by this strange young woman than anything else. How did she manage to find him nearly every day after being a resident of the Opera Populaire for only two months when he had successfully eluded everyone else for two decades? The more important question, perhaps, was why was she trying to become friends with the Phantom of the Opera?

These were questions swimming around the opera ghost's brain one afternoon as he sat brooding in Box Five. He glanced down at the auditorium below him to see Adrienne striding up the aisle with a cloth bag draped over her arm. She stopped for a moment and, with one hand, flipped her long dark braid over her right shoulder before disappearing behind the curtains of the stage. The girl had taken to carrying her lunch up to the roof every day and had as good as told the Phantom that he had better show himself up above the opera at least once a week or she would resume stalking him. He sighed, recalling that it had been five days since his last "lunch date", and begrudgingly rose from the shadows of his formerly private box.

Adrienne took her customary place, perched halfway up the statue of Apollo, and opened her small lunch sack. After balancing half a loaf of bread, a large chunk of cheese, some cold chicken and a small bottle of wine on her knees, Adrienne threw the empty bag up into the air and grinned.

"Bonjour, Monsieur le Fantome," she said, without looking up, "I had hoped to see you today." A leather encased hand dropped the shabby cloth back onto Adrienne's head.

"You say that every time, and every time I fail to comprehend your reasoning." Adrienne smiled, pulling the bag off of her head, and glanced up to see the famed opera ghost perched on Apollo's shoulder. She shrugged, intentionally avoiding an explanation, and took a bite of bread. After several minutes of silence a low growl of exasperation escaped the dark mass crouching above her. Adrienne laughed.

"You are incredibly easy to annoy, my friend."

"And you are incredibly annoying," the Phantom replied sharply. "Why you are determined to plague me, I'll never know." Adrienne chuckled and shook her head.

"Well, I suppose as this is the third week I've managed to drag you out of your confinement I'll stop being quite so difficult." A sarcastic "humph" came from the dark figure.

"Difficult? You are intolerable." Adrienne threw back her head and laughed.

"I know. How else was I supposed to get you to emerge from the shadows?" she replied as she handed the chicken up to her unwilling friend.

"I don't see why you couldn't have just left me in the shadows in peace." The dark girl shook her head.

"I've told you, I want to be your friend." Another frustrated growl. Now it was Adrienne's turn to sigh. "Must I go over this again?" The young woman shifted, tucking her feet underneath her as she let a pile of crumbs slide off her skirt. "First of all, you are incredibly fascinating. You prowl around an opera house in a mask and a cape haunting its inhabitants, yet you remain surprisingly sane, even if you are slightly temperamental." Adrienne glanced up and, seeing a dark scowl, continued. "And more importantly, I think you are in desperate need of a friend, even if you don't seem to realize it." Adrienne's voice dropped, losing its sarcastic edge. She stared at her hands, as if expecting the silent man above her to say something. "Besides, I have never had many friends I could rely on. You're even more of an outcast than I am, who else would I be able to relate to?" At this the phantom merely laughed.

"The little Giry is not satisfactory enough for you?" Adrienne smiled.

"Meg is sweet and I am very glad I met her, but sometimes I feel like I'm just babysitting her. She's so innocent and her life is incredibly simple, so much so that I wonder how I became a part of it." Adrienne chuckled as she thought about the tiny ballerina. "She is also more than a little obsessed with the opposite sex. You should have seen her at that café..." Adrienne paused, her forehead wrinkling. "Wait, you _did_ see her, as I recall." She turned to look at the opera ghost where he sat smirking, her hands resting on her hips and a challenging look in her olive eyes. "You know, it's really difficult to hold a conversation without worrying about you sitting back eavesdropping somewhere," she said accusingly. The Phantom just glared at her.

"As if an insufferable girl could tell me how to behave in my opera house," he said in an icy voice.

"Yes, but you weren't in _your_ opera house." The phantom looked away over the streets of Paris. "Meg wanted to take Christine out so she could try and find out what was bothering her friend..." Adrienne stopped as a gloved hand found its way around her throat. A dangerous glint had appeared in the green eyes of the Phantom. Adrienne did not move, but stared defiantly up at her captor. "Excuse me, I keep forgetting we don't talk about _her_," she said bitterly. "You know, it isn't _my _fault she decided to favor de Chagny. I wish you would stop persecuting me for her decisions." The hand tightened for a moment before unwinding itself from around Adrienne's throat. The headstrong girl coughed and rubbed her neck, where a purple, hand-shaped bruise was beginning to form.

"Damn it, what I am supposed to tell my brother if he sees this? He'd be stupid enough to try and find you, and we all know what would happen _then_." The Phantom glared at her for a moment before his features softened slightly.

"Speaking of your brother," he said as Adrienne cursed and wound a long red handkerchief around her bruised neck, "I suppose you've been too busy harrassing me to notice that he is beginning to spend a great deal of time in the company of a certain young ballerina." Adrienne stopped, her jaw dropping open.

"No," she said with disbelief. "Meg!" Adrienne shook her head in surprise. "I never saw that coming. Who knew?" She looked back to the opera ghost who was sitting in icy silence above her. Adrienne sat again, her demeanor softening as she watched her friend begin to tense. The dark girl tilted her head to one side, her eyes trying to understand his mind by reading his body. She knew how he hated anything involving someone else's happiness in love, and she was quite impressed that he had offered up this information about Armand and Meg. Adrienne supposed this was his form of an apology.

"Well," she said as she jumped down from the statue, "I'm going to get back to work now. I need a little time to come up with an explanation for this." She pointed at her now purple neck. "I'll leave you to fester and plot revenge." Adrienne began to walk away, but stopped before she reached the door. She turned back to the Phantom, one hand pulling nervously on her long, dark hair. "What are you going to do?" He stared back at her.

"It is of little concern to you," he replied coldly. Adrienne began chewing on her lower lip.

"You're not going to hurt anyone, are you?" No reply. "Erik?" At the mention of his name, he sighed.

"I am writing something." Adrienne raised one eyebrow, puzzled.

"Writing what?" Erik smirked.

"You'll see."


	14. Inquisition and Gossip

"Damn him," Adrienne muttered as she made her way back down to the hustle and bustle of the theater below. "Always resorts to violence...huge purple fingerprints...Armand would get himself killed..." she grumbled as she kept adjusting the handkerchief around her bruised neck. Frustrated, she stopped mid-stride and yanked the flimsy fabric off of her neck. Cursing, she ran down the next staircase to her meager bedroom to find a more suitable cover for her new complection. After hurriedly fixing a silky, black, and completely opaque scarf about her neck, she again began her journey down.

"What would everyone think if they saw," Adrienne said as she continued her angry muttering.

"Saw what?" Adrienne spun around to find herself face to face with Meg Giry.

"Umm..." Meg cocked her head to one side, puzzled by her friend's bizarre behavior. "Nothing."

"Adrienne, what is it? What's going on?" Meg asked with concern as she approached her puzzling friend. Adrienne clenched her fists, trying to keep her hands from subconsciously drifting to her throat. Meg placed her hand on Adrienne's shoulder, her eyes searching the dark girl's face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, why would anything be wrong?" Adrienne forced a smile. Meg knit her eyebrows, unconvinced. Her eyes drifted downwards to the small streak of purple peeping out from the top of Adrienne's scarf. The ballerina gasped.

"Adrienne! What happened to your neck?" She untied the scarf and unraveled it from the throat of her protesting friend. Her eyes grew wide and she gasped again at the sight of the huge, hand-shaped bruise.

"Meg, it's alright, I promise..."

"Alright? How could it be alright? Someone obviously tried to strangle you!" Meg's voice became more and more frantic.

"Shhh!" Adrienne pulled her excited friend far into the backdrops of the stage. "Will you be quiet?" Meg pursed her lips as she shifted her weight onto one foot and crossed her arms angrily.

"I'm waiting Adrienne," she said in a stern voice which made her sound remarkably like her mother. Adrienne sighed.

"Look, Meg, it's really nothing to worry about, I promise you. It was just a misunderstanding with a friend who tends to be a tad temperamental."

"_A tad temperamental!_ I don't care how temperamental a person is, what kind of friend would do something like that?" The angry ballerina cried, pointing at Adrienne's bruise. The dark girl placed her hands on Meg's shoulders as she tried to calm her hysterical friend.

"Meg, I _swear_ everything is fine." Meg shook her head. "I promise you I'm really not in any danger. This was an accident, honestly!" The ballerina snorted.

"Oh yes, quite an accident. His fingers just _accidentally_ found their way about your throat." Adrienne opened her mouth to argue further, but Meg continued on her rant. "Who is this man, anyway? That hand print clearly doesn't belong to any woman _I _know!" By this point Meg was packing back and forth in furious circles around her friend.

"Oh enough!" Adrienne threw her arms around the tiny ballerina, who struggled fruitlessly to escape the grasp of the larger and stronger woman. "Meg, you know I'm not the kind of person to take any abuse from anyone. I said this was an accident, and it was. My friend..." Meg snorted. "...yes, _friend_, is _not_ a bad man. I would never associate myself with the type of person you think would do something like this. It was _an accident_, I swear to you!" Meg relaxed slightly. Adrienne released the young dancer from her vice-like grip. Meg crossed her arms again and looked worriedly at her friend. "I would also appreciate it if you didn't let my brother know about this. He would only react badly and get himself into more trouble than he could handle." Now it was Meg's turn to look apprehensive.

"Why would _I _tell him?" Adrienne raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"Come now, Meg, I really am more observant than you give me credit for." Meg blushed.

"Yes, well...the point is, I'm worried about you, Adrienne." Meg wrapped her arms around her friend's waist. "I wish you would tell me who did this to you." Adrienne shook her head.

"There's really no point. It wouldn't solve anything." Meg bit her lip.

"It's just...you're such an amazing woman, Adrienne. I don't want you to throw away your friendship or affections on someone who doesn't deserve them." Adrienne smiled and kissed the top of Meg's blonde head.

"I'm not, dear little Meg," she said, hugging the tiny ballerina. "This person, who shall remain nameless, may be more deserving of my attention than anyone I've ever met." Meg sighed in relief, resting her head against Adrienne's shoulder.

"In that case, he has my full confidence." Adrienne smiled and glanced around her.

"_Now that is a conversation I hope you _did_ hear," _the dark girl thought to herself. _"Maybe if you hear it enough you'll start to believe that there are people in this world who will fight for you."_

"Though you know," Meg said, interrupting Adrienne's thoughts, "If he ever really hurts you I'll go after him myself." Adrienne threw back her head and laughed, her dark hair mingling with Meg's golden locks.

"Now that is a threat indeed! Who in their right mind would want a Giry woman on their trail?" Meg grinned and helped Adrienne retie her scarf so that none of the bruise was showing. Once the mark of her conversation with the phantom was covered, the two young women walked back to the stage, arm in arm.

"Now I'm really curious, Adrienne," Meg said, her normal happy tone resumed. "Who is this secret male friend of yours?" Adrienne shrugged casually. Meg grinned and poked her friend in the side, making her utter a very un-Adrienne-like squeak. "Oh come on, who is he? Is that why you always go up to the roof nowadays? Having secret trysts, are we?" Adrienne's jaw dropped as Meg winked suggestively at her.

"Meg! Secret trysts? Honestly..." She shook her head as the tiny ballerina continued to prod her.

"Who is Adrienne having secret trysts with?" The two girls turned to see Christine grinning at them. Meg smiled, having found a partner to help her badger Adrienne. The older girl coughed and shook her head.

"No one."

"I don't believe her," Meg said with a smirk. "Now Christine, have you not noticed that Adrienne seems to spend less time in the main area of the theater than she used to?" Christine smiled.

"I have indeed."

"Thank you. I have also observed that she likes to go up to the roof _alone_ to eat her lunch everyday." Christine raised her eyebrows.

"You don't say."

"Oh indeed I do. _And_ I have recently discovered that she has a 'friend' that none of us knew of before who is in fact a man and who, she says, shall remain nameless." Christine giggled as Adrienne rolled her eyes.

"Well now, this _is_ interesting!" Christine cried as she linked her arm with Adrienne's. "Tell me, has romance bloomed for you as well as Meg here?" Meg spun to face Christine.

"What!" Now it was Adrienne's turn to laugh as Meg opened and closed her mouth, searching for something to say.

"What did I tell you Meg? You are not as sneaky as you think you are!" Meg tried her hardest to look upset, but could not keep the grin off of her face. The three women began laughing, Christine with her fair hand over her lovely pink mouth, Meg trying to cover the deep red blush that covered her pretty face, and Adrienne with her olive eyes sparkling as her clear voice echoed throughout the auditorium. After several minutes of non stop giggling, Adrienne stood, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, and took her two friends by the hands.

"Well, I suppose we must all get back to work before Madame Giry hunts us down for slacking." The small ballerina and the graceful singer stood, following their tall friend. Christine wrapped an arm around the waist of her dark companion.

"But really, Adrienne, _have_ you found some romance?" The smile drifted off Adrienne's face.

"We cannot all expect to find men entranced with us. My friend does not see in me what Raoul and my dolt of a brother see in you and Meg," Adrienne replied, a sad look stealing into her olive eyes. "No, I have not found romance. Love seldom appears where you would expect it to." The other women gave Adrienne a reassuring hug before running off to their respective rehearsals. The dark girl watched them leave, something creeping into her mind that she hadn't expected.

"_Have_ I found romance?" She frowned and looked at her feet. "Well now, I didn't expect this." A small ache appeared in her abdomen. She wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. "Oh, this is going to hurt. Alot."


	15. Realization

_Hooray for not having internet for two weeks. Super exciting. This chapter's short, but for those of you who read my little trip into my head (however badly written it is), here ya go. More to come soon_

"Damn him," Adrienne began muttering again, but this time for a completely different reason. "I don't _want_ to have any feelings for him!"

"Feelings for who?" Adrienne spun around to find herself face to face with Armand.

"Will you people stop doing that!" Armand looked confused.

"Huh?" Adrienne let out an irritated 'ugh!' and stormed off towards the foyer with her mending in tow. She plopped down and began venting her frustrations on one of the ballet rats' torn skirts, managing to pierce her fingers more than the fabric. Hours later, the sun fading to darkness, Adrienne still sat with that same skirt and several incapacitated finger tips, her anger as fresh as it was in the early afternoon.

"_I always end up with bloody fingers when I'm in a bad mood_," Adrienne thought to herself a moment before she buried the needle in her left thumb. A stream of obscenities interrupted the otherwise still air of the opera foyer as Adrienne threw down her mending. "_There's no way I'm going to accomplish anything like this,_" she thought as she sucked on her new wound. The red faced girl leaned forward with her elbows resting on her knees, her face in her hands.

"Why does this always happen to me? I always want the ones I can't have." Adrienne scowled at her own uncontrollable emotions. She sighed and dropped her head to rest on the floor in front of her. "He's completely out of my reach," she said in a pathetic voice muffled by dark hair and marble.

"Who's out of your reach?" Adrienne's head shot up at the familiar sound of the rich, icy voice behind her. She peeked under her left arm to see a very amused looking phantom leaning against the column behind her, a position which was concealed by a great shadow created by the setting sun.

"No one." "_Fantastic, this day just keeps getting better and better..." _

The opera ghost raised his one visible eyebrow, an amused smirk playing across his face. Adrienne flipped her unruly hair back over her shoulders, pulled her feet in front of her and grasped her knees to her chest, trying to stop the frustrated scream in her head from coming out of her mouth. She turned around at the sound of a cloak brushing the floor. The phantom had turned as if to leave but stood looking over his shoulder at Adrienne. The dark girl sighed, heaved herself back onto her feet, and followed her enigmatic friend back into one of the alcoves of the foyer. The phantom tucked himself as far into the shadows as he could as Adrienne climbed onto a small ledge used as a place to set extravagant flower arrangements during the lavish balls held annually at the opera. After she had gotten situated with her head resting on her drawn up knees, Adrienne looked to her friend.

"So..." The opera ghost looked at her.

"So who is he, then?" He asked with undisguised disdain. Adrienne raised her head.

"What?" She looked at him, a look of puzzlement on her face. He curled his lip and continued.

"Who is this man who is so out of your reach that you spend hours stabbing yourself out of anger and frustration," the phantom said, his voice icy and dangerous. Adrienne grinned mischievously.

"Why Erik, are you _jealous?_"

"You smile," he growled. "Who is it? De Chagny? That _boy_ takes everything that is mine!" Adrienne could not help laughing at this point.

"Yours! Since when am I yours? _I _thought I was just wasting your time dragging you out of the shadows!" Erik crossed his arms and sneered into the darkness.

"Oh that's right," Adrienne continued, "you don't like to share. I come along and give you some attention and you don't want anyone to take that attention from you, is that it?" She stood, her anger of the day reemerging. The man before her shot the girl an icy look before continuing to glare into nothing. "Well," she said, "I can assure you, you have no reason to worry about any decline in attention from me. This particular man has not, does not, and will never want me." Adrienne's voice caught in her throat. "There is no purpose in pursuing him." She turned, trying to hide the angry tears that threatened to spill down her face. As she wiped her eyes she heard a cloak rustle behind her.

"If there is no purpose, then why waste your tears." That voice, mere inches behind Adrienne's ears, made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"_Oh God, why him?_"

Another rustle, Adrienne turned again to find herself alone once more.

"Agh!" She moaned to herself before picking up her unfinished mending and storming off to the safety of her little room.

"No," she said, stopping, "that's not safe either. He's everywhere . . . "


	16. Cloaks and Costumes

Two more months passed at the Opera Populaire without any events of significance taking place. The opera ghost had seemingly vanished, for no one had seen or heard a trace of him for a solid three months, no one, that is, except Adrienne Rocher. The upcoming New Year's celebrations, and particularly the traditional Opera Populaire Bal Masque, were the focus of every conversation in the little world of the opera, from Meg and Christine in their dressing rooms, to Carlotta amidst her usual luxurious chaos, to Adrienne and Erik sitting on the roof, high above the rest of the world.

It was two days before the Masquerade. Adrienne sat between Apollo's wings, her usual spot for their lunches, and Erik sat on the base of the statue, kicking a small pile of snow. Adrienne tried to quiet her chattering teeth as she sipped her now luke warm coffee. Winter in Paris was a far cry from winter on the sea, and this cold was something that Adrienne never seemed to get used to. She exhaled slowly, creating a very ragged sounding sigh. Erik looked up at her and shook his head.

"What did I tell you about sitting up there today? Did I not tell you you would freeze to death?" Adrienne shook her head stubbornly.

"I'm f-fine..." The opera ghost stood and took the flask of coffee from the shivering girl's blue fingers.

"Liar." He grasped her waist and pulled her down from the statue.

"Come now..."

"No protests." The phantom sat her unceremoniously on the dry patch he had created while kicking at the snow, pulled off his cloak, and dropped it onto her shoulders. He cut quite a figure when the bulky cloak wasn't completely enveloping his very trim and defined body. "You should be back to normal in a few moments." Adrienne wrapped the still warm cloak tightly about her and inhaled the scent of leather, sandalwood and candle smoke. She sighed again.

"Warm yet?"

"Yes." _"But not for the reason you think...Oh stop it, Adrienne..."_ She shook her head to banish these increasingly frequent and incredibly inappropriate thoughts. "You were saying?" The phantom nodded.

"Yes, the Masque. Are you going?" Adrienne snorted.

"Me, go to the Masquerade? You must be joking, they'd never invite me!" Erik crossed his arms, quite determined.

"You could go with Meg. She and her mother attend every year, and I believe she has already invited your brother." Adrienne laughed.

"Oh yes, they'd just love for me to tag along." The opera ghost frowned.

"Don't be difficult. You could easily sneak into a large room full of masked people." Adrienne looked up at him suspiciously.

"Why do you want me to go so badly?" He shrugged.

"I believe it will be...very interesting for you, shall we say?" Adrienne shook her head again. Her friend was being very enigmatic and determined, which meant that she should just move on and go along with his plans. Nothing she said would have made a difference anyway.

"Fine, I'll go." Erik nodded.

"Good. Do you have something to wear?" The young woman twirled a long strand of dark hair about her finger and bit her slightly blue lip in thought.

"Yes, but it may need some modifications." "_Not that anyone would recognize me anyway..."_

"What do you need?"

"Umm...a white mask, a few gold or white scarves, shoes, and..." The phantom raised an eyebrow.

"And?" Adrienne blushed.

"And a white silk boustier and stockings." Erik smirked and laughed.

"You shall have them." Adrienne sneezed. "You're welcome." Erik stood and pulled Adrienne to her feet. She blushed again.

"_Good grief, it just keeps getting worse._"

"Time for you to be getting back to your mending. I trust your fingers will be free of stab wounds today?" Adrienne nodded.

"Good." The girl pulled the cloak off her shoulders and held it out to her friend, who shook his head. "Keep that one. If you insist on traipsing about in the cold you must have something to prevent you from catching pneumonia. Who would go out of their way to force companionship upon me if you were laid up with a fever?" Adrienne laughed and replaced the cloak. She spun once and held her arms out, striking a pose.

"Well?" Now it was Erik's turn to laugh. The cloak looked more like a tent on her. Though Adrienne was quite tall and more broad than most women, she was still dwarfed by this garment made to fit the phantom's much more substantial build.

"A perfect fit. Until the Masque, then." He bowed and disappeared, leaving Adrienne alone on the roof. She fingered the soft satin lining of the cloak wrapped around her.

"Two days with which you can completely occupy your mind with thoughts of Christine," Adrienne sighed to herself. "Oh well, at least now I have something else to help me dream of him," she said as she pulled the cloak up enough for her to be able to walk without tripping. "Not that I _need_ any help in that department..."

The day of the Masquerade finally came. Adrienne sat in the newly decorated foyer eating her lunch with Meg and Christine, both of whom were too excited to eat and both of whom forbade Adrienne to go to the roof in this weather.

"_Not that it would have mattered anyway, he's not coming today,_" Adrienne thought to herself. She turned her attention back to the happy chattering of her two friends.

"What is your costume, Meg?" Christine asked excitedly.

"Oh, it's the most beautiful thing! I'm going to be an angel. Maman had Madame Renaud make my dress. It's all white silk and feathers, I just love it!" Meg stood and spun on her toes as though she were flying with her arms trailing behind her. "An angel, it's just so beautiful!" Adrienne grinned. She could think of nothing better for Meg's costume than an angel. The little ballerina was, after all, the sweetest and most innocent person Adrienne had ever met. After a few more turns, Meg plopped back down next to her friends.

"What about you, Christine, what are you going to be?" Christine blushed.

"A rose." Meg cocked her head to one side.

"A rose?"

"Yes. Raoul has bought me the most lovely dress. It's pale pink with small silk roses sewn in various places. My mask is silver with more roses." Christine's fair cheeks had turned a shade of pink which, Adrienne though, would match her costume perfectly.

"It suits you, Christine," Adrienne said with a smile. "You'll be beautiful." "_Damn it._" Christine smiled demurely before looking up at her dark friend.

"What about you, Adrienne? What will you be?" Adrienne coughed.

"Oh, I'm...I'm not going." Meg started.

"What? Of course you are!"

"No, I'm not..." Adrienne said as she shook her head. Meg stood and took her by the arm.

"I insist, you must. We'll just march right off to the costume department and dig through the old costumes to find you something to wear." Adrienne dug in her heels.

"No, no, Meg, I'm really not going!" Christine stood and took her hand.

"Why not?"

"Why not? I'm a costume mender! What right do I have to go?" Adrienne said, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised in exasperation.

"What right do we have to go, but we're going!" Meg said, stamping her foot. Adrienne laughed.

"What right? You are the ballet mistress' daughter," she said, nodding at Meg, "and you are the patron's...what exactly are you, anyway?" Adrienne turned to look at Christine, her arms crossed over her chest. Christine smiled and whispered something into Adrienne's ear. The older girl's eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"Really?" Christine nodded happily. "Alright then." Adrienne turned to find Meg still pulling on her arm. "Meg, stop it. I don't want to go, and I'm not going to go, will you please leave me alone?"

"But what of your gentleman friend," the ballerina said with a suggestive smile, "will _he_ be there?" Adrienne just grunted in frustration and ran off to her room where she promptly covered herself with the luxurious, black cloak that was spread across her bed.

"_Yes, he'll be there..."_ She looked at the foot of her bed to see a large pile of gold and white topped off by a thin, white mask. "_And apparently so will I_..."


	17. Bal Masque part one

The night of the masquerade had arrived at last

The night of the masquerade had arrived at last. It seemed as if the entire city made its way to the opera house, and even the stars seemed to exist only to add more sparkle and splendor to the event. Adrienne made her way through the backstage area, one hand pulling her cloak about her tightly as the other hand clutched a small bag. The work force of the theatre was beginning to assemble, each stagehand, set builder, chorus girl and dress changer bringing with them either a bottle of wine or some manner of instrument. A fiddle played a merry tune somewhere in the background and close to the escaping seamstress' assistant a guitar began to join in.

"Adrienne!" people shouted at her as she hurried past, "Where are you going? Stay, have a drink, have a dance!" Adrienne shook her head and pulled the cloak tighter about her.

"I can't, my cousins are passing through Paris and I want to see them while they're in town." She had been working on her story all afternoon.

"Cousins? Why waste your time with boring relatives when there is enough wine here for everyone!" A greasy stagehand grinned at her as he tried to slip his arm about Adrienne's waist. She grimaced and spun out of his grasp, trodding on his foot in the process.

"As tempting an offer as that is, I really must be going. Enjoy your evening." She turned and finally made her way out the back of the theatre where she hailed a cab. A kindly looking man with silver hair sat atop the driver's box.

"And where are we off to tonight, mademoiselle?" Adrienne pressed a silver coin into his hand.

"Just up the Rue Auber, around the square and then back to the front of the opera house, please."

"Sneaking into the ball, eh?" he said with a wink.

"Basically."

"Alright then, off we go."

As the carriage lurched to a start Adrienne opened her bag. She pulled out a white scarf, a gold scarf, her shoes and the delicate white silk mask. She wound the scarves about her head, pushing her hair up and back so that it fell down her back in one dark wave from the crown of her head. Once her hair was arranged she pulled off her dark work shoes and placed on her feet a pair of white satin slippers. She pulled out a small mirror and a stick of kohl which she used to trace the almond shape of her eyes. The cab approached the grand entrance of the Opera as she placed the glittering mask upon her face.

"Hey," she said, knocking on the roof and leaning her head out of the window. "Can you recognize my face?" The old driver smiled a big toothless grin.

"No, mademoiselle, you seem to be perfectly disguised." Adrienne smiled. The cab pulled to a stop.

"Thank you," she said as she stepped out of carriage. She held her breath as she walked into a glittering world full of silk, satin, gold, and masks. "Here we go…"

There was mirth and gaiety as far as the eye could see. The gilded foyer of the Opera was full of people laughing, dancing, drinking and flirting. Adrienne began to relax slightly as the shining, warm spirit of the masque washed over her senses. There was a certain ease that came with the anonymity of a masquerade, which was something she could fully appreciate. Adrienne handed her cloak and bag to an attendant and stepped further into this world of carefree frivolity.

No one who saw Adrienne that night could have recognized her. The only normal clothing she wore was her slippers, petticoat and bustier. Over these she wore a long, white flowing skirt which was made out of several separate panels of fabric that, without the petticoat, would have exposed her long legs up to the thigh. The skirt sat very low on her hips and was trimmed along every edge of every panel with tiny, shimmering gold beads. A scarf covered in gold coins was tied about her waist, causing her to jingle as she walked. Above the bustier she wore a white silk top that left her arms bare, which was cut low and stopped just below her breasts. This, too, was trimmed with beads and coins. About her arms and neck were wound thin gold chains, each of which had tiny, tinkling bells at its end. Her warm skin and dark flowing hair provided a rich contrast to the pure white of her ensemble, and her dark olive eyes almost glowed, piercing the pale ivory mask. She looked foreign, exotic, like the kind of woman no man can afford to keep near him but for whom every man would sell everything he owned in order to try and keep her from leaving. She did not look like herself.

Adrienne made her way through the glittering hoards. She saw a cock and a ram that she recognized as the self important owner of the Opera Populaire. She saw Madame Giry in some rich, black and gold oriental gown, La Carlotta and Piangi in matching sultan and sultana garb and Meg in her angel costume_"(Oh but she does look perfectly sweet and innocent in that…")_ dancing with Armande, who was dressed as a cheeky pirate. Adrienne had to stop herself from snorting out loud at this last costume. There was dancing and merriment all around, and Adrienne could not help but smile. She took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and made her way up the grand staircase so that she could watch everyone from the upper levels of the foyer.

As she leaned over the railing she watched the dancing. Meg and Armande covered the floor, both beaming. "They do make a handsome couple," she muttered to herself as she sipped her champagne. Providing quite a contrast to this carefree couple were Christine, a blushing rose, and the handsome Vicomte, who danced almost cautiously in a small circle. Adrienne watched them for a moment before Christine pulled De Chagny away from the open floor and into a side hallway.

"Pardon, Madame…" Adrienne turned to see an older gentleman with kind eyes wearing a gold lion's mane smiling at her. "Would you be so kind as to grace me with a dance?" He held out his hand. Adrienne examined the gentleman for a moment before setting down her glass and placing her hand in his.

"Gladly, Monsieur."

After two dances with this man, whose name was Lenoir (he owned a glass factory outside of Montreuil, was attending the Masque with his daughter and her new husband and just had to dance with the exotic young beauty), an arrogant young man in a harlequin costume attempted to cut in.

"No thank you, monsieur, I am quite content with my current partner." The harlequin sulked away, cursing as Monsieur Lenoir laughed.

"That is very kind of you, Mademoiselle, but I am afraid your current dance partner is quite fatigued. Old goats like me are not used to keeping up with spry young things like you. May I escort you back to your perch?"

"Of course, Monsieur." Adrienne smiled and took his arm. Moments later she was back at her place by the railing, smiling down at the crowd. All of a sudden the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she felt a very familiar heat behind her.

"Would you have been more obliging if it was I who tried to steal you away from your old lion?" Adrienne's smile widened and turned to the source of the smooth, sarcastic voice behind her ear. A pair of mischievous green eyes grinned back at her from behind what Adrienne supposed should have been a terrifying skeletal mask, but she was not afraid. She leaned against the railing, placing one hand on her hip.

"Would you have taken 'no' for an answer?" The phantom smiled and pulled Adrienne back into an isolated alcove. She took the moment to admire his costume, a vivid red velvet suit, almost a uniform, and a cape which looked so splendid fitted to his muscular body that her breath caught in her throat.

"Of course I wouldn't," he said as he took her right hand, placed his left hand upon her waist and began turning her in small circles. Adrienne could not tell if the warm feeling in the pit of her stomach came from the champagne or from his touch. She beamed back at him.

"I should have liked to dance with you in any case." He cut a sideways glance at her. Adrienne suspected his concealed eyebrow was raised in sarcastic suspicion.

"Really…"

"Well, yes." He scoffed.

"I should have thought you would prefer the older, _softer_ type." The familiar bitterness had returned to his voice.

"What? Erik, you are not seriously jealous of Monsieur Lenoir…." He sneered. "The man is old enough to be my grandfather, but he is a kind old gentleman."

"Humph."

"I am more comfortable with you any day."

"_If you only knew how comfortable…"_ she thought to herself.

"Besides, you're quite good at this." The corner of his lips raised in a slight grin.

"Thank you. So are you, though I must say the waltz really does not seem to be your main strength in the world of dance," he said, teasing her with his smile and the glint in his eyes. Adrienne blushed and turned her head away.

"You were not supposed to have seen that," she whispered.

"Ah, but I did see it, didn't I?"

"Humph." Adrienne slowed to a stop, embarrassed. The ghost just tightened his hold on her waist, leading her back into the waltz. She closed her eyes for a moment, caught up in the feel of his arm about her, leading her. _"Stop it, Adrienne, stop it!"_

"I must say, though, as …entertaining as your dancing is, I doubt it would be acceptable in this particular venue." She chuckled slightly.

"No, it most definitely would not be. It is not acceptable in most places. People in general are not prone to accept anything strange or different…" Adrienne added in a more serious tone. She looked up at her partner. "…are they?" She could feel the familiar, angry, passionate tension exclusive to Erik seep through his body. His eyes grew cold.

"No, they are not." Their dance had slowed to a stop. The music and noise from the floor below was building, but Adrienne and the phantom stood still, she watching him and him staring into nothing with a murderous glint in his eyes. After a moment, he clenched his jaw and brought his arms to his sides.

"Well, Madame, I must leave you now. I have a pressing engagement." He withdrew slowly. Adrienne remembered now that he had wanted her at the masque for a reason. Any enjoyment she had gained from the event quickly fled her mind and was replaced with worry.

"What are you going to do?" He grinned menacingly.

"Go back to the main hall. I wouldn't want you to miss the show."

I'm getting back on the Phantom story bandwagon after, what, three years? Yeah…probably a little shaky, but the irritating little muse who likes to wear fluffy pink skirts and pretend sword fight has called, so here I go again…


	18. Bal Masque part two

Adrienne quickly rushed out of the alcove and down the stairs to the main floor of the foyer, her costume tinkling as she ran

Adrienne quickly rushed out of the alcove and down the stairs to the main floor of the foyer, her costume tinkling as she ran. She was immensely worried and sincerely hoped that no one wound up dead as they did the last time the phantom publicly expressed his displeasure. Granted, she did not lose one wink of sleep over the loss of Joseph Buquet. It wasn't a very nice way to go, but he was by far one of the most reprehensible people Adrienne had ever encountered. Now the ghost was angry with Christine and the Vicomte, neither of whom deserved any such vengeance. Adrienne did not believe that he would even consider killing his precious little ingénue, but she couldn't be completely sure of what he was capable of when it came to her. The Vicomte on the other hand….

"Ow…" Adrienne stumbled on the last step and nearly ran right into a man dressed as what appeared to be a giant puff of cotton. As she steadied herself she heard everyone around her gasp. "This is it," she whispered to herself and turned, slowly, to see the opera ghost standing at the top of the stairs. It was amazing the power he had over people. He stood there, not speaking, not moving and still he commanded the presence of every single person in the room. This was a masked ball, and judging by his costume no one would have even known it was he who was the infamous phantom, but the way he stood there staring down the world, daring them to speak during his moment in the spotlight made it clear to everyone that this was not a person to be taken lightly. No one moved, no one breathed. All the life and laughter that had filled the glittering hall mere moments before had come to a screeching halt as the crème de la crème of Paris society waited to see what the man dressed as the Red Death would do. Adrienne looked on with the rest in complete awe of the sheer charisma the man possessed. She watched him, observing how he reveled in the undivided attention of the hundreds of party goers. He absorbed it like a sponge, drank it in. He stepped forward. No one dared move. He spoke. It was not until that point that Adrienne noticed the rapier with the skull guard at his side.

"_Oh this can't be good…"_

"Did you miss me, good monsieurs? I have written you an opera."

He taunted Andre and Fermin, throwing the score at their feet. They huddled together and trembled like the spineless cowards they were. He then turned his attention to Carlotta and Piangi. Adrienne bit her lip to keep from laughing at this much deserved mockery. She nearly snorted when he poked Piangi's rather bulbous midsection with his sword. Every time the phantom advanced on another partygoer the crowd would shuffle back the slightest bit. They did not want him to come any closer to them, but they were too afraid and entranced to retreat completely. The entire crowd inched away except for three women: Madame Giry, Adrienne and Christine. Christine…there she was, standing all alone in her pretty pink dress. His eyes lit on her soft and lovely form. He wanted her back, he was manipulating her into returning to him. Adrienne held her breath as the anger and bitterness that had been present seconds earlier disappeared from the man before her. All of a sudden he was no longer menacing, no longer threatening. His eyes darted back and forth between the floor and Christine's face. His lip trembled oh so slightly. Adrienne could see each nervous breath as his chest rose and fell. She felt her eyes fill with tears as she watched Erik's defenses completely break down. He was vulnerable, once again the heart broken man she had watched on the roof the night of Il Mutto. He was no longer in control of the situation. Christine was. They stepped towards each other. Christine seemed drawn to him as a moth to a flame. Her eyes were fixed upon him. His eyes were pleading, begging her to love him as the crowd looked on. Adrienne brought her hand to her mouth so that she might stifle any involuntary sobs. Silent tears flowed down her cheeks. Christine and Erik continued towards each other. All of a sudden he noticed the diamond engagement ring hanging around her pale neck. The anger returned. He tore the golden chain from her white throat.

"You belong to me!" he hissed before he turned and vanished through the floor in a burst of flames. The Vicomte followed, having returned to the hall with a sword at his side.

The spell was broken. The masquerade guests rushed about the hall, some fleeing, some trying to find the trap door, the rest huddling into small groups and whispering frantically about the events that had just occurred. There was shouting, cursing, crying and gasps of fear and excitement. Adrienne remained frozen where she stood at the base of the stairs. She coughed, letting out the breath she had been holding for the last several minutes. Christine was standing only a few feet away from her, shaking and wringing her hands. Meg ran to her friend followed closely by Armande. Madame Giry had disappeared. Adrienne's mind began spinning as people rushed past her in a swirl of satin and silk.

"_He's trapping her, but why?...What am I thinking, I know exactly why…but what is he going to do after the opera?...Why use an opera, wouldn't there be an easier way?...I need to see that score…De Chagny!...Oh God, the Vicomte followed…Erik will kill him, the silly fop…Where's Madame Giry?…"_

"I have to go."

Adrienne fetched her cloak and bag, picked up her skirt and ran upstairs. Once she was out of the foyer she ducked into one of the phantom's passages and began pulling off her headscarves as she ran. Minutes later she was back in her room where she threw her costume into her trunk and pulled on her work skirt and blouse. By the time Adrienne made her way back down to the main levels of the opera the buzz from the ball had spread to the working class' party. She pushed through the backstage until she reached the ballet quarter. She turned the corner to reach Madame Giry's apartment only to slam into the Vicomte, who had a nice fresh bruise on his forehead.

"Pardon, mademoiselle," he murmured as he brushed past.

"Wait, Vicomte, what happened down there?"

"Ask her," he shouted over his shoulder as he continued towards the dressing rooms.

"Wonderful. Thanks so much…" Adrienne muttered to herself as she approached the ballet mistress' rooms. She knocked softly.

"Madame Giry? It's Adrienne, I must talk to you." The older woman opened the door. There were tears in her eyes and her usually proud frame was hunched slightly, making her seem older than her forty years.

"Come in, my dear."

"May I get you anything, Madame? Begging your pardon, but you look terrible." The ballet mistress chuckled.

"Actually, some tea would be very nice."

"Yes, Madame." Adrienne busied herself with the kettle. "Madame, what happened with De Chagny and the Phantom?" The older woman sighed.

"The Vicomte followed him into a mirrored chamber. Thankfully he escaped."

"He would have killed him, wouldn't he?"

"I think he would have, yes." Adrienne shook her head as she brought over a cup of tea and sat next to Madame Giry on the settee.

"Madame Giry, I do wish you would just tell me the whole truth."

"What do you mean, dear?"

"Please don't pretend you don't know what's going on, Madame. I am fully aware that you know more about him than anyone else and frankly I need to know what you know." Madame Giry raised one eyebrow sternly.

"Oh really…" Adrienne clenched her jaw. She was slightly afraid of Madame Giry, as was everyone with any sense in the opera, but this was not the time to let that out.

"Yes, Madame. I need to know as much as I can. I have to try and discover what he's going to do. I have to help." The dancer laughed at the younger woman.

"Help? Help who? Christine? De Chagny? I have the greatest concern for Christine, but if he wants to help her he should just take her away. He thinks the ghost mad, I suppose you agree." Adrienne felt as if she should have had a shield prepared. She realized at this point that Madame Giry must have had a very similar conversation with the aforementioned patron.

"You mistake me, Madame. I do care for Christine, and I agree that the best chance for her happiness would be to leave the country. However, I must admit that Christine is not my primary concern."

"No? Then pray tell what is."

"He is."

"He?" Adrienne took a deep breath.

"Erik." Madame Giry gasped and brought her hand to her mouth.

"He told you his name?"

"Yes, Madame, he's my friend and I cannot help him unless I know the whole story. And I do not think he is mad, just very, VERY angry" The older woman nodded and proceeded to tell Adrienne what she knew of the phantom's history. Adrienne sat unmoving throughout the narrative, though she did tense up considerably at the mention of his treatment at the hand of the gypsies. When the ballet mistress had finished, Adrienne bent forward with her head in her hands.

"Oh, poor man…" Madame Giry nodded and placed her hand on Adrienne's knee.

"I am glad to have found someone else who shares my opinion of the situation. Everyone else is so judgemental, so hateful…" Adrienne began to cry for the second time that night and simultaneously grunted in frustration. She was not a woman used to crying.

"This will destroy him, Madame. He's going to try and force Christine to love him, and she can't. She just can't, she doesn't have the sense or the strength to love him and that silly Vicomte and those idiot managers are only going to make things worse for everyone. I don't know what to do…" Madame Giry instantly transformed from the harsh ballet mistress into a mother. She put her arms around Adrienne and began to rock her back and forth while she cried. Adrienne sank into her embrace. She had never known what it was like to have a mothers comfort and it was nice to give up control for just a brief moment in time. After a few minutes the sobs ceased. Adrienne wiped her nose as Madame Giry stroked her hair.

"Let me just ask you one thing, Adrienne."

"Yes sniff Madame?"

"Does he know?" Adrienne looked up, puzzled.

"Know what?"

"That you love him?" Adrienne jumped up.

"What?!" Madame Giry smiled sadly.

"Don't start so, my dear, women can usually tell these things in each other…especially if they've been through it themselves." Adrienne sat and sighed.

"I hate it, Madame. She is not right for a man like him, but he is going to keep pushing until she destroys him. To him I am just an annoyance…"

"He will do as he pleases when it comes to Christine, I do not believe there is anything anyone can do to stop him in that respect. I do, however, share your opinion that she will only hurt him." Madame Giry shook her head sadly. "I dare not try and contradict him, but I have no doubt that he is in good care in your hands." Adrienne snorted.

"In my hands…he's not in my hands, he doesn't give a damn about me or what I think."

"Somehow, my dear, I do not think that is entirely true…"

Half an hour later a very weary and emotionally drained Adrienne plodded up the final staircase to her room. She had had nearly all a woman could take for one evening and she looked forward to sleep, the one place she knew she could manage to let go of the events of the day. She finally managed to pull herself up the last few steps and turned the corner to her small bedroom. She looked up from the wooden floorboards where she was concentrating on her dragging feet to see something she had not expected. Armande was leaning on her door with an half eaten apple in one hand and a bottle in the other.

"So," he said, "been to any good parties lately?"


	19. After the Masque

Sorry it's been a while, I've been having some issues lately that required WAY too many doctor's visits. This chapter's kind of short, but hopefully the next one will be up in a day or two. Cheers!

"So, been to any good parties lately

"So, been to any good parties lately?" Adrienne looked up and sighed.

"You cannot be serious…" she muttered to herself as she willed her weary mind to push her equally weary body into her room. She pushed past her brother and flopped down onto the bed. Armande followed her and sat on the trunk at the end of her bed where he continued to much on his apple.

"Humph hmm mph humph?"

"What?" Adrienne lifted her face from the pillow she had buried it in.  
"I said, how did you know?" Armande crossed his arms.

"What do you mean, how did I know? I saw you, you sneak."

"But, I thought…" Armande laughed.

"You thought you were well enough disguised?" he said, handing Adrienne the bottle. "To everyone else, perhaps. I _am_ your brother, Adrienne, and your twin on top of that. Besides, you looked like…" he paused. Adrienne pushed herself up onto her elbows and cocked her head to one side.

"Like what?

"You looked like our mother." Adrienne sat up.

"Really?" Armande nodded.

"Do you remember that photograph that Papa used to keep in his pipe box? The one from the night they met?" Adrienne leaned over the side of the bed, pulled up a floorboard and took something out. She rolled up to a sitting position so that she sat facing her twin.

"Do you mean this photograph?" She handed Armande an old, faded sepia toned picture. It showed the interior of a magnificent ten hung with yards and yards of fabric. Rich rugs covered the sandy ground. On top of these were mounds and mounds of pillows. Sitting upon the pillows, illuminated by torches and candles sat several men dressed in robes and turbans, one of whom wore strings of pearls and gold on his head dress. To one side of this group of men sat about half a dozen men in traditional French sailor's garb. In front of the men, standing on a large carpet with her arms curved above her head and her right leg pushed forward was a woman. She wore a dark, flowing dress, very similar to the one worn by Adrienne this very night, except this woman did not have her skin covered by a bustier, petticoat and stockings. At the end of her long, lean legs her pointed feet were bare. Beaded gold chains hung about her ankles, wrists, and neck. Dark hair clouded about her face and even though the image was faded and damaged by time, the woman's eyes clearly shone through the dark pigments of the paper. Her eyes were the same deep, glowing, almond eyes which she passed on to her children.

Armande smiled.

"Yes, this photograph." He took it from his sister and studied the image of their mother. "Do you remember how we used to steal this in the middle of the night?" Adrienne laughed.

"Oh yes, Papa got so angry with us, he thought we would tear it or spill something on it."

"He always forgave us, though."

"Yes, he did." The twins sat in silence, missing their father and looking at the picture of the mother they never knew.

"Do I really look like her?" Adrienne asked as she leaned her head on Armande's shoulder. He nodded.

"I thought it was her at first, at the masque," he said quietly as he caressed the picture with one callused fingertip. Adrienne smiled. "It took me a moment to realize that that wasn't possible and that it must have been you."

"I wish I could see her when I look in the mirror. She was so beautiful…"

"And so are you, little bird. I don't think you realize it, but you are." Adrienne grinned and slapped her brother on the shoulder.

"Stop it, you're making me blush." Armande smiled wide and pinched her cheeks, causing her to slap him again. He laughed as Adrienne huffed, embarrassed.

"Now I believe it is time to come to the point." Adrienne lay back down and stared at the ceiling. "_Oh no…"_ she thought to herself. Armande turned so that his feet were at his sister's shoulders and lay down as well.

"What were you doing there, and why didn't you tell me you were going?" Adrienne coughed.

"Well, it's a rather involved story…and frankly I'd prefer not to get into it right now."

"Why not? Is it because of this mystery man Meg insists you have?" Adrienne tensed and was very, very glad that Armande could not see her face at this particular moment.

"Mystery man? Really, Armande, you don't believe that, do you?"

"Well, I don't know. I wouldn't, but you've been so strange and secretive lately, always sneaking around and disappearing…" Armande sat up, took Adrienne's arm and pulled her to a sitting position.

"I'm worried about you." Adrienne sighed.

"Please don't be."

"I can't help it. You've never kept the truth from me, even when it was something I didn't want to hear. This secrecy scares me."  
"I don't want to lie to you, Armande. I do have secrets, but I cannot tell you what they are just yet. Please just trust that I am not in any danger and that I will tell you everything when the time is right." Armande shook his head.

"I do trust you, Adrienne, but I still worry. You're all I have, you know." Adrienne chuckled.

"I believe Meg would disagree with that statement. Speaking of secrets, what's going on with you two?" Now it was Armande's turn to have his cheeks flush a deep, vibrant red.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." A sly grin appeared on Adrienne's face.

"Oh really, now who's concealing the truth? I suppose I shall just have to wheedle it out of you!" She lunged forward and gave Armande a sturdy poke in the rib cage. This elicited a very un-masculine squeak and caused him to shoot up off of the bed.

"Come now, you really don't want to start all that!" he said as he rushed his sister, grabbed her legs and began tickling behind her knees which caused her to squeal and flail, kicking him in the stomach. As Armande was catching his breath, Adrienne struck again.

Several minutes later both brother and sister were laid out on the floor, laughing and exhausted from their warfare. After they had both caught their breath, Armande reached out and laid his hand on his sister's arm.

"Seriously, though, Adrienne, I want you to trust me with these things."

"I know, Armande, and I do trust you. I just can't tell you yet. I have to wait…"

"For the right time, I know." Armande sighed.

"Trust me, this is most definitely NOT the opportune moment to go over all of this with you. Later, love, I promise."

"Alright then," Armande replied as he pulled himself off the floor and made his way to the door. "In that case, I am going to bed."

"Say goodnight to Meg for me," Adrienne shouted playfully. Armande blushed again.

"You see, this is why I don't discuss women with you." Adrienne smiled.

"Goodnight, Armande."

"Goodnight, sparrow." The door clicked behind him.

"Ugh, finally…sleep…" Adrienne reached up, pulled her pillow off the bed and rolled over on the floor, too tired even to get up. Her exchange with her brother had sapped any and all of her remaining energy. As she buried her face in her pillow she drifted away to sleep as imaged of rapiers, red velvet capes and skulls crept into her head.


	20. Confrontation

Adrienne slept, a deep sleep filled with dreams. As she slept some notable events took place both inside and outside of the opera. The owners spent the entire night fretting away in their office. La Carlotta and Piangi bemoaned their encounters with the ghost together and tried to decide if they were frightened enough to comply with his demands. Madame Giry stared into her mirror, wondering what had become of her youth and pondering things to come. Armande and Meg spent the night dreaming of each other in their separate beds, and in the early hours of the morning a carriage driven by a cloaked man left the opera and headed towards the cemetery.

Just after dawn the Phantom crept through the tunnels of the opera house. He was breathing heavily, his clothes were mussed and dirty and his forehead glistened with perspiration. His jaw was clenched with anger and his eyes looked as if they could have pierced your very soul. He fumed silently to himself as he climbed through the passageways leading to the upper levels of the opera. As he approached the workers' dormitories he calmed himself. He turned and followed a narrow, downward slope until he reached a slatted, wooden wall. He listened for a moment before pulling up the plank that led into Adrienne's room. He didn't know why her opinion mattered to him or why he wanted to see her reaction to the night's events, but the truth was it did and he did, so he made his opening and went inside.

Adrienne was asleep on the floor. She lay on her side, her arms tucked under her head along with her crumpled pillow. Her knees were pulled into her chest and her hair fell over her face. She had no blanket, and she shivered in her sleep. The Ghost sighed, shook his head, removed his sword and sheath, leaned them against the wall and pulled off his dirty gloves, placing them in his jacket pocket. He stepped over the sleeping girl so that he could reach the bed. He pulled back the blanket, causing a small piece of paper to fall to the floor. He picked it up and saw it was a photograph of a beautiful, exotic woman who looked very much like his pesky accomplice. He stared at the picture for a moment before opening Adrienne's trunk and placing it on top of her rumpled costume pieces. He then turned to the girl where she lay, still completely unconscious. He knelt beside her, crooking one of his arms under her knees and the other under her shoulders. As he stood with her in his arms she nestled into his chest. He stood still for a moment, contemplating his current situation. He had carried Christine in his arms while she slept, but somehow Adrienne felt different. His angel had felt light, detached, as if she could blow away in the wind and be gone forever. The dark girl felt more solid, somehow, and where Christine fell away from him in her sleep Adrienne had turned towards him. It was strange, he thought to himself, how two women could simply _feel_ so different. He just stood there holding her, absorbing the contact. Whenever Erik was lucky enough to actually share a physical touch with another person that didn't involve strangulation, abuse or beatings he tried to make it last as long as possible so that he could remember it until by some rare chance it happened again.

Adrienne sneezed, stirring Erik from his thoughts. He remembered that she had been shivering, and his cloak was still damp from the snow. He turned, laid her gently onto her bed and pulled her blanket over her body. He picked the pillow up off the floor. Erik leaned over the bed, carefully lifted her head with one hand and placed the pillow under her neck. As he gently repositioned her head on the pillow his thumb brushed lightly across the soft skin of her cheek. The girl breathed deeply.

"Erik…" she whispered softly as she sighed in her sleep. He shivered, stood upright and moved to the corner. Normally he would now have gone to watch his angel ready for the day, but he was currently so furious with her and her frilly fiancé that he did not trust himself not to harm her or another of the ballet rats. So, he slid down the wall, balancing on his heels, pulled his cloak about himself and waited.

Two hours later, Adrienne awoke. She breathed deeply and smiled, remembering her dreams, and stretched out her arms. When she felt the blanket slide off of her torso her eyes snapped open. She was not on the floor.

"Erik?" She sat up and turned to find him crouched in the corner.

"Yes?" She blinked at him for a moment and shook her head as if trying to knock her thoughts into their correct places.

"You picked me up."

"Yes."

"You…" she hesitated and bit her lip. He raised his eyebrow. "You…held me…" He coughed.

"What did you think of the masque, interesting, was it not?" Adrienne ran her fingers through her hair and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Interesting…honestly, Erik, I don't know if that's the word I would have chosen." He stood stiffly.

"Oh really, which word would you find more appropriate?"

"Troubling." He raised his head defiantly.

"Troubling, you say. And why is that?" Adrienne stood, crossing her arms so that she matched his haughty demeanor.

"Why is that? You know why, you're setting up some sort of giant mousetrap for everyone, of course it's troubling." The Phantom clenched his jaw.

"I thought you didn't care for them."

"I don't care for most of them, but I am afraid that whatever you are planning goes beyond the limits of whatever they deserve."

"Humph."

"And as for Christine," Adrienne began before Erik rushed up to her angrily.

"Do not speak to me of her!" he hissed, his face inches away from Adrienne's. "She betrayed me, ran off with that…that stupid fop of a boy!" Adrienne did not budge, nor even blink at Erik's anger.

"Yes, I know she betrayed you. You trusted her, she tore your mask off and when you reacted she feared you. I understand that part. What I don't understand is this: She hurt you, she's likely to do so again, if she wants to run off with De Chagny why don't you just let her?"

"Ha!" The Ghost stormed about the room in a frenzy. "Let her, oh yes, just let her…" he fumed as he curtly kicked his sword where it stood, causing it to fall and slide partially out of its sheath.

"She belongs to _me_!" Adrienne shook her head and grunted in frustration before she glanced down at the sword. There was blood on the blade. Her eyes widened. She looked up at the Phantom who was still muttering and prowling about the small chamber. She walked to the rapier and pulled it completely out of the sheath, examining the blood.

"Erik, what have you done?" She held the weapon up so that the blade caught the light from her tiny window. He stopped.

"What have I done? Nothing of significance." He crossed his arms stiffly behind his back, his eyes narrowed to small, dangerous slits. Adrienne did not relent.

"Whose blood is this?" He did not answer. He wanted her to guess.

"De Chagny?" One corner of his mouth twisted up into a grin. Adrienne gasped.

"Erik, you didn't kill him…."

"I wish I had. As it is all I did was leave a gash on his pretty little arm." He sneered. Adrienne could see him withdrawing into his own mind and his own revenge. She stormed up to him and threw the sword to the ground. He jerked his head about, staring at her, daring her to continue.

"Don't give me that look; I am not afraid of you."

"Ha!" He laughed again. "Are you sure about that?"

"Erik, this has _got_ to stop! Let them be, move on with your own life or…"

"Or? Or!? What will happen to my life, do you think? What life do I have beyond this opera house and Christine?" Adrienne pressed forward and pushed her own nose as close to his as she could get it.

"Christine is not worth the complete disaster you are going to cause! She is not worth your life!" He hissed and clenched his hand around her neck, pushing her chin up.

"Curb your tongue, or…" He didn't have time to complete his threat before Adrienne's hand flew up and slapped him hard across the cheek. His mask slipped, revealing a strip of red, scarred skin. He jerked it quickly back into place. Adrienne brought her finger up so that it pointed into his face in a manner that Madame Giry would have been quite proud of.

"You listen to me, Erik. I am telling you this because I care about you; in fact I am probably the _only _person in this opera house and quite possibly the rest of the world who _truly_ cares for you: You _must _let this go. I am not saying this for Piangi's, or Carlotta's, or De Chagny's or Christine's or anyone else's sake but your own. I don't know what you have planned for Christine, but I can promise you here and now that she will not do as you wish because she is simply not strong enough or smart enough to please you. You think this is what you want, what you need, but I am telling you it will destroy you and I for one will _not _sit around and watch it happen!"

For a few moments neither of them spoke, they just stood there and stared at each other. His lips trembled slightly as he hissed hot, furious air out of his lungs. Angry tears crept into the corners of her eyes as her chest rose and fell with her breath. The air between them was electric. They both leaned slightly towards one another before he broke the silence.

"I _will_ have my revenge." Adrienne swallowed and stepped back.

"Then I will not be here to see it." He stepped back slowly, picked up his sword and sheath and reattached them to his belt.

"You will not abandon my opera," he said as he walked towards the wall. She crossed her arms and stared back at him, unwavering.

"I will work on the opera, I will hem and seam and trim your costumes, but opening night I am gone." He clenched his jaw.

"Fine." He pushed away the slat and vanished. Adrienne rushed to the wall. She placed her hands against the panel and rested her ear against the worn wood. There was a weight on the other side. After a moment, it lifted and she heard footsteps fading into nothing. Adrienne fell to the floor with her head in her hands and cried.

"Oh God, save him…"


	21. Events Set in Motion

As Adrienne sat on the bare wood floor of her small room crying and trying to regain some control of her emotions the opera be

As Adrienne sat on the bare wood floor of her small room crying and trying to regain some control of her emotions the opera below her was throwing itself into the preparations for the new production of the Phantom's opera. By now everyone had learned what had transpired the night before, and unlike the other occasions when the Opera Ghost had quietly made his presence known, there were none now that dared even mention him. Every chorus girl, every fly man, stagehand, seamstress, prop maker, musician and laundress knew the implications of his appearance. Never before had he walked openly into their midst, never before had he make such serious, open, direct demands. No one dared to defy him. No one except De Chagny, of course. He and the owners had decided to go forth with the opera as a means to trap the Phantom. Others, Madame Giry and her daughter included, knew better. You could not trap a man who can vanish through walls.

By mid day work had begun on Don Juan Triumphant. The score was being copied and individual parts were being written out for the singers and musicians. The prop master and head costumer had been given a list of scenes and characters and were beginning their designs. The ballet rats had completed their usual morning routine and were waiting for Madame Giry to receive her copy of the first scene so they could begin new choreography. As soon as the ballerinas broke for their midday recess, Meg went to find Armande. She had not seen Adrienne at all that day and she was worried. Adrienne was never very active in the goings on of the opera but she was always there somewhere, sitting and watching. Armande confessed to her that the dark beauty at the Masque had indeed been his sister and that he had left her in her room the previous night. He did not tell her about their discussion of Adrienne's secrets. And so, Meg went in search of her friend. After Madame Renaud told her that Adrienne had not come for her mending that morning, Meg climbed the series of stairs that led to the dark girl's tiny room.

Adrienne was sitting in the corner with her knees pulled into her chest when she heard the knock at her door. She wiped her eyes.

"Come in." Meg pushed open the door and poked her head inside.

"Adrienne?" It took her a moment to spot her friend in the corner. She closed the door and rushed to Adrienne's side, placing her hands on her friend's shoulders. "Adrienne, are you alright?" Adrienne sniffed and shook her head.

"Not really, no."

"What is it? Armande said you seemed fine after he talked to you, what's wrong?" Adrienne leaned her head forward and rested it against her knees.

"Oh Meg, there's so much, and I need to tell someone…"

"You know you can tell me anything, I won't tell a soul." Adrienne smiled slightly.

"I know, Meg. I'm just unsure of how much I should tell." She bit her lip. "Meg, let me ask you something."

"Anything." Adrienne took a deep breath.

"How much do you know about the Phantom?" Meg cocked her head to one side.

"The Phantom?"

"Yes, has…has your mother told you anything that the others may not know?" Meg lifted her head knowingly, sat back on her heels and lowered her voice to a whisper.

"Oh, I understand. I know that my mother knows much more than anyone else even though she pretends not to. Several times I have wandered into his passages and suddenly she's appeared and pulled me out. She won't tell me what she knows. I think she wants to protect me." Adrienne nodded.

"Are you afraid of him?" Meg paused, thinking. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"You know, I don't think I am, really. I am afraid of what he could do, but I am more curious than anything. The Phantom himself doesn't frighten me…at least not very much." Adrienne began twisting a strand of her hair nervously between her fingers. Meg wrinkled her eyebrows quizzically. "Why do you ask?" Adrienne had managed to tie her hair into a knot and was now trying unsuccessfully to untangle it.

"Meg, will you swear you will not tell a soul? Not even Armande and _especially_ not Christine?" Meg nodded.

"Of course."

"I need you to swear it. _No one_ can know what I am about to tell you, they will not understand." Meg took Adrienne's hand.

"I swear, I will tell no one." Adrienne sighed heavily.

"You know how you've been asking if I had a 'mystery man' and how you have been wondering what I've been up to the last few months?" Meg nodded.

"Yes…" Adrienne shrugged and looked at Meg expectantly. Meg looked at her for a moment, puzzled, and then it dawned on her. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"No! You mean, you…"

"Yes."

"And he…"

"Mm hmm."

"The _phantom_!?"

"I told you there was a reason it was a secret." Meg fell back off of her feet and just sat in the floor, wrinkling her crisp white practice skirt. She was blinking furiously and her mouth kept opening and closing as if she was going to say something but couldn't, which caused her to look rather like a large mouthed fish. Adrienne raised herself to her knees. "Meg?"

"But, I don't…that day when your neck was bruised. That was him." Adrienne nodded.

"All of your lunches on the roof?"

"Right again." Meg's furrowed her brown as her lips turned down into a frown.

"You said your friend was nothing to worry about, that he wasn't any danger to you, that he wasn't a bad person." Adrienne shuffled over and took Meg's hand.

"Yes, exactly! This is my point, he's not a bad person, Meg, he's just…" Meg stood quickly, suddenly looking very much like her mother, stern and unyielding.

"Just what? Adrienne, he's killed a man! He kidnapped Christine; he's basically taken control over the entire opera house for God knows what purpose…" Adrienne stood and took Meg by the shoulders.

"I know, Meg, I know all that, and as a matter of fact he didn't exactly kidnap Christine."

"What?"

"Come, Meg, you know Christine better than anyone. Do you honestly think the only feelings she harbors towards him are fear and resentment?" Meg bowed her head for a moment and then sighed.

"No, you are right. Christine never has been able to make up her mind about these things…but what about everything else?"

"I know what he's done and I have an idea about what he's planning to do, but surely you can see why he does those things?" Meg wrinkled her nose and looked at Adrienne, confused. "He's been outcast, abused, neglected and beaten, cut off from the rest of humanity his entire life just because of whatever his face looks like. If that were me, I would have lashed out slightly more than he has, wouldn't you?" Meg crossed her arms.

"I suppose you are right, though it doesn't excuse anything."

"Of course not, but it explains it." Meg nodded. The girls walked to the bed and sat down.

"Adrienne, can I ask you something?" The dark girl nodded. "Have you seen his face?"

"No." Meg shrugged.

"I was just curious." Adrienne smiled.

"Of course you were, you always are."

"Humph." Meg feigned indignity. The two young women sat in silence for a few moments. Meg's face became grave again.

"Adrienne, you still haven't told me why you are so upset today." Adrienne rolled over onto her side.

"We fought. I wanted him to abandon this scheme of his; it will only hurt everyone involved. He wouldn't. I told him…"

"Told him what?" Adrienne sighed.

"I can't right now, I'm sorry..." Meg placed her hand on Adrienne's shoulder.

"That's alright, you don't have to. And I promise, I won't tell anyone what you've told me, though I still don't completely understand your logic." Adrienne smiled weakly and rubbed her eyes which were still red from crying.

"Thank you." Meg studied her friend's face.

"Adrienne, have you eaten today?" She shook her head. "You haven't even gotten out of the corner, have you?" She shook her head again. Meg paused for a moment before continuing cautiously. "Adrienne, do you…the phantom, you don't…"

"Please don't ask me that, Meg." Meg raised her head as the realization hit her. She knew why Adrienne didn't tell anyone her secret, why she was so afraid to tell. Despite her naivety Meg had always been a very perceptive girl. It was one of the many gifts she had inherited from her mother.

"Alright, I won't ask. But you must come down and eat something."

"Very well." Adrienne went to her small basin, splashed some water on her face, brushed her hair and followed Meg into the hallway.

Adrienne spent the next weeks sitting in one of the upper tier boxes watching rehearsals as she hemmed costumes and stitched on buttons and beads. The more the opera developed the more upset she became. Don Juan was new, strange, different and intoxicating. The music was lush and dissonant, off putting and hypnotizing at the same time. It was rich, potent and extremely sexual. Adrienne heard Erik in every note, every strain. In the choruses she heard his strength, his passion, his power and his anger. In the ballads and arias she heard his vulnerability, his love and his deep soul. It was torture. He had not come to her since that morning after the masquerade. She would not go in search of him unless she saw some sign that he was giving up his great revenge, which of course he would not even consider. And so, Adrienne spent the two months before the premier of the Phantom's opera sitting alone, speaking to only her brother and Meg and sharing her troubles with no one. Adrienne fully intended to keep her promise to Erik; if he insisted on going ahead with his plan she would not be there to see the aftermath. No one except Meg knew, but Adrienne had been looking for employment outside of the opera. One afternoon she was crossing the courtyard in front of Notre Dame after making another round of inquiries when she ran headfirst into the Vicomte De Chagny as he was coming out of the church. Adrienne dropped the sack which contained the remainder of her lunch, some mending and several sheets of paper.

"Blast," she muttered to herself as she knelt to pick up her things.

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle, let me help you." The Vicomte bent down and scooped the contents of the bag into his arms before placing them back in the sack where it sat on the bricks. When he stood, he squinted and looked at her. "I know you, Mademoiselle, you work at the opera."

"Yes, Monsieur. I am a friend of Meg and Christine." He smiled.

"Yes! You are the lady with the twin, the seamstress, Mademoiselle Rocher, am I correct?" Adrienne curtsied awkwardly.

"Yes, Monsieur, you are correct." The Vicomte bowed.

"I am honored to make your acquaintance, Mademoiselle Rocher." He picked up her bag. "Are you returning to the opera house, Mademoiselle?" She nodded.

"Yes, I have completed my errands for the day."

"I am on my way there myself, may I accompany you?" Adrienne's right eyebrow rose slightly. This may be the opportunity she was hoping for.

"Of course, Vicomte." De Chagny held out his arm, which Adrienne took, and the two began the walk back to the Opera Populaire.

Adrienne chewed nervously on her lip as she willed herself to begin the conversation she knew had to take place.

"Monsieur, may I ask you a question?" The young man smiled.

"Of course, ask me anything you like."

"I do not want to offend you, but there is a topic which I feel I must address." The Vicomte cocked his head to one side, curious.

"By all means, please continue." Adrienne sighed.

"Why do you not take Christine away from here?" He lowered his head; the gaiety that had been present in his features was gone. He sighed, stopped, and turned to face the dark girl.

"Why should I take her away? Do you not think that I can protect her here?" His blue eyes burned. Adrienne raised her head and set her jaw.

"I think you underestimate certain internal influences."

"The Phantom, you mean," Raoul replied as he clenched his jaw.

"Yes." He took up her arm and they began walking again.

"I am not afraid of him. We shall catch him, Mademoiselle, never fear." Adrienne shook her head.

"You do not understand, Vicomte, you can't catch a ghost by stationing guards. Do you not think he has a plan? He is everywhere in the opera, monsieur, do you not think he knows what you are trying to do? Don't you realize that he will not do what you expect him to?" They crossed the square in front of the opera house.

"Mademoiselle, I will not let that man win. Christine is strong, and I will protect her."

"Monsieur, I swear to you that the only way you can truly make this end is to take her out of the country now. Do not stay for the premier of the opera, leave before things get worse." They stopped as they approached the main doors. "I care for Christine, she is such a sweet girl, but I do not think the two of you view this situation in entirely the same way. Please, take her away so that she may be happy with you." The Vicomte took Adrienne's hand.

"I appreciate your concern, but I think it best to continue as planned." Adrienne sighed.

"I cannot change your mind, Monsieur, but please consider what I have said…" Raoul bowed.

"Of course, I will take your suggestion quite seriously. Good afternoon, Mademoiselle." Adrienne watched as he walked determinedly into the foyer. She shook her head and sat on the steps to finish eating her bread.

"He's not going to take my suggestion at all, silly fop," she muttered to herself as she munched on the crust. "And I've only got a week left…"


	22. Author's update

Author update:

I am so sorry I haven't updated in forever. I was on a roll over the summer and now that work's started back I've just been swamped. I fully intend on finishing this story and hopefully will have another chapter up sooner rather than later. Just in case anyone was wondering, I have not, in fact, fallen off the face of the planet...


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